


tarantino and tortellini

by exohousewarming, mochiiks



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Polyamory, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 05:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exohousewarming/pseuds/exohousewarming, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochiiks/pseuds/mochiiks
Summary: Prompt number:395Side Pairings (if any):noneWarnings:excessive amounts of kissing and pastaSummary:Jongdae isterrifiedof his across-the-hall neighbors.





	tarantino and tortellini

**Author's Note:**

> **Author Note:** this is just. Not Good. sorry to the prompter for the problematic quality of this fic; i adored your prompt, and i really did not do it much justice. thanks to the mods for being super patient and for giving me much much more time than i needed! special thanks to my beta for putting up with my moping and cheering me on, because this would not be half as long without your support!! i hope y'all enjoy this, despite the vomit-inducing pacing and generally awful writing  <3

In the most macho sense of the word possible, Jongdae is terrified of his across-the-hall neighbors. Granted, he’s only seen them a handful of times since he moved into the vacant, one-bedroom accommodation opposite Apartment 210, and he’s never exchanged more than a polite “hello” with either of them for the five months he’s lived there—but Jongdae is almost certain that he lives across from a pair of mass murderers.

One of his neighbors, for instance, constantly comes home with red stains all over him, whether they be smeared on his cheeks, caked on his clothes, or both. He tries to hide the stains with oversized jackets, or bright yellow scarves wrapped around his chin, but Jongdae always catches a glimpse of the red splotches. The rational pre-med graduate in Jongdae reasons that blood isn’t the only red liquid in the world, and that the stains could be anything—while the horror movie enthusiast in Jongdae helpfully reminds him not to answer the door if he hears someone knocking at night.

His other neighbor, albeit free of any questionable red stains, isn’t any less unnerving. The first time Jongdae had greeted him in the hallway with the standard hello and smile, he had simply turned to Jongdae with a glare, not acknowledging his greeting in the slightest. Jongdae had flushed as he turned away, hurrying into his apartment as quickly as he could and triple-checking to make sure the door was locked behind him. He had slept with his bedroom lights on for a week after that.

So, yeah; Jongdae’s neighbors probably murder people for a living. He isn’t too sure whether the killing is of the serial, contract, or vigilante variety, but he does know that he doesn’t want to get on his neighbors’ bad sides—and, as Jongdae had learned back in high school, the best way to stay off someone’s bad side is to not get on any of their sides.

Thus began the Great Across-the-Hall Neighbor Evasion of Apartment 210. Over the course of a week, Jongdae made careful note of his neighbors’ schedules—when they left for work and when they came back home, when they liked to go to the laundry room, even when they usually took out their trash—so that he knew when not to go out. Sometimes, he even left for work or class an hour early to reduce his chances of running into either of them.

Jongdae carries on like this for three problem-free months, his system working perfectly. Then, disaster strikes.

“No, no, no,” Jongdae gasps, plugging and unplugging the cord into the kitchen outlet, “not this. Anything but this. If there’s a God out there, please, spare me.”

His electric water boiler sputters feebly in response, a small puff of steam escaping through the top before the orange light on the side flickers off. Jongdae groans and throws the cord to the side. He stares sadly at the broken down boiler, then at the bowl of unopened instant ramen sitting beside it.

Jongdae’s day has been, quite frankly, a disaster. He had bombed his Histology test earlier that morning, despite the fact that he had studied nonstop for weeks beforehand. Work had been horrible, too, the entirety of his shift at The Velvet spent cleaning up after a kid’s baseball team who didn’t understand that flicking macaroni at your waiter was not appropriate lunchtime etiquette. To make matters worse, he had tripped over his own shoelaces on his walk home, leaving unattractive rips in his favorite pair of jeans and scraping his arms nastily.

The only thing Jongdae wants now, after a grueling day of bruised elbows, snotty children, and bad test scores, is a simple, hassle-free dinner of instant ramen—and he can’t even have that.

Jongdae bites down on his bottom lip, contemplating his options. He could make something on the stove; but he’s so exhausted, and standing around in the kitchen all night, waiting for something to finish cooking, sounds like such a chore. Besides, his culinary skills aren’t that substantial in the first place, and he’s a little worried that he’d burn his kitchen down trying to fry rice.

He could just forego dinner and tough it out until the morning, then pick something up at the convenience store on the way to class. His stomach protests the notion with a loud rumble. Clearly, he’s not going to be able to skip a meal.

His last option is borrowing someone else’s water boiler, which is just awkward in itself—especially since Jongdae doesn’t know any of his neighbors nearly enough to ask them for a favor like that. In fact, the only people he has ever interacted with on his floor are…

“Oh, fuck,” he says aloud.

His stomach lets out a short gurgle. “No,” Jongdae hisses down to it, “I’m not asking a pair of serial killers for their water boiler. As much as I love ramen, it’s not going to be the reason I die.”

Another gurgle. Jongdae frowns. “Alright, death by instant ramen would be pretty sick,” he says thoughtfully, “I mean, if you’re gonna go, might as well go out with a bang.”

No gurgles this time—which is fortunate because, well, it forces Jongdae to stop holding a conversation with his fucking stomach.

Jongdae sighs as he toes a pair of old tennis shoes on and trudges out to the hallway. He stops in front of the door, staring at the neat plaque reading “APT 210” displayed on the wood. He can hear the distinct pops and sizzles of a stovetop cooking dinner, even through the door. It’s a little surprising, but Jongdae doesn’t question it too much—after all, even serial killers couldn’t eat out every night.

He raps his knuckles against the wood. The commotion behind the door increases tenfold.

“Go answer the door!” Jongdae can hear someone shout over the high-pitched yipping of a dog, followed by a long silence. Then, “Or else I’m feeding your dinner to Mongryong!”

There’s the sound of someone scrambling towards the door, their footsteps thumping noisily even against the loud sizzling of the stove. The door swings open to reveal a man in a baggy hoodie and long, black pants, a dark snapback fitted backwards over disheveled brown hair—Jongdae almost doesn’t recognize him without any red stains on his face.

“Oh! It’s you!” the man exclaims, his eyes wide with excitement, “You’re our neighbor, aren’t you? The guy who lives in 209?”

Before Jongdae can respond, the man is turning away from the door with a grin. “Hey, Soo! You gotta come see this!” he shouts, probably much louder than needed, “It’s the guy who lives in 209!”

“I heard you the first time, Baekhyun,” a second voice replies from a distance, not nearly as loudly, “as I’m sure half the building did.”

Baekhyun doesn’t seem phased by the remark, his grin only growing as he turns back to Jongdae. “It’s nice to finally meet you, neighbor,” he says cheerily, holding his hand out for Jongdae to shake, “I’m Baekhyun, and that dismembered voice is Kyungsoo.”

Jongdae glances down at Baekhyun’s outstretched hand. There’s a canvas of red stains on his palms and fingers, some of them faded and some of them looking solid enough to be freshly made. Jongdae starts devising an escape plan in his head.

Baekhyun must notice Jongdae’s expression, because he pulls his hand away with a chuckle. “Oops, sorry if I scared you there,” he says, examining his own hand for a few seconds before smiling up at Jongdae, “Thursday is finger-painting day, and my younger kids love using red.”

Jongdae blinks, his thoughts of whether he could survive a fall out of the second floor window tumbling to a stop. “Your… kids?”

“My students, I meant,” Baekhyun explains, still smiling, “I teach elementary school art.”

And oh, that explains so much.

The crackling noises in the background soften to a simmer, and another figure (Kyungsoo, Jongdae remembers) appears beside Baekhyun. He wipes his hands on the oversized pink apron draped over his frame, the hem falling far past his knees, and adjusts the thick, black glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He peers up at Jongdae with clear, round eyes and tilts his head to the side, suddenly reminding Jongdae of an owl.

When Jongdae realizes that this is the same man who had glared at him in the hallway that first day, all he can do is stare.

“I’m sorry, is Baekhyun bothering you?” Kyungsoo asks, hitching an eyebrow, “yeah, he does that sometimes.”

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, Soo?” Baekhyun coos, slurring his words together, “I know you loooove it when I bother you.”

Baekhyun leans directly into Kyungsoo’s space, trying to nuzzle his nose into the crook of his neck. Kyungsoo pushes his face away before he can, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless. Jongdae can’t help but feel as if he’s intruding on a private moment, and wishes for the fifty-seventh time that night that he had the sense to buy a new water boiler before his current one broke.

Kyungsoo pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. “So, did you need something…?”

“Jongdae,” he finishes for Kyungsoo.

“Jongdae,” Kyungsoo echoes, the name rolling off his tongue in smooth, dulcet tones. Jongdae ignores the way his heart stutters for a few seconds.

“I was wondering if I could borrow your water boiler?” Jongdae asks, “I was planning to make ramen for dinner, and my boiler broke down before I could.”

Kyungsoo furrows his brow. “You were going to have instant ramen for dinner?” he asks. He doesn’t sound amused or judgemental, like Jongdae had expected him to—if anything, he just sounds a little concerned.

Jongdae shrugs, unsure of how to respond; he can’t say he’s used to near strangers paying this much attention to his well-being. “I don’t really have time to make dinner myself,” he explains.

“But, dinner is so important,” Kyungsoo says, sounding increasingly appalled as he speaks, “you don’t have anyone to help you with meals? No friends, or roommate, or significant other? And, why haven’t you reached out to us about this? I can’t have one of my neighbors starving on my watch.”

Jongdae resists the urge to say because I’ve always assumed that you two would kill me and turn all my teeth into a decorative yet functional paperweight of some sort if I approached you. “I never knew that was an option,” he answers instead.

“Of course it is,” Kyungsoo says, still staring at Jongdae like he’s some poor, wounded animal that requires all of his care and attention (he’s not, goddamnit—Jongdae, although incredibly sleep-deprived and deficient of pretty much every nutrient required to be a healthy human being, is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, thank you very much), “I can’t believe you’ve been starving all this time, and we haven’t invited you over for dinner or anything.”

Jongdae thinks that starving is a bit of a stretch, so he’s grateful when Baekhyun laughs and says just this. “Calm down, Soo, it’s not like he’s dying,” he says with another chuckle, wrapping an arm around Kyungsoo’s waist languidly. He turns to Jongdae with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow. “Although, I do have to agree that it’s weird how you’ve never once come over for dinner in the half a year you’ve been living here.”

“Five months, actually,” Jongdae corrects in a mumble.

Baekhyun exchanges an amused smile with Kyungsoo, as if they’re in on some hilarious joke that Jongdae isn’t aware of—and honestly, they probably are. “Alright, five months,” Baekhyun remedies, turning back to Jongdae, “which is still five months too long.”

“I—” thought you two were serial killers, “—wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing at all,” Kyungsoo replies with wide eyes, as if the very notion astonishes him, “I always make leftovers for lunch the next day, and we have tons of extra silverware for when our friends visit.”

“You could even have dinner with us tonight,” Baekhyun continues, easily picking up where Kyungsoo drops off, “we’d love to have you over.”

They’re both staring at him expectantly, expressions of genuine earnest on their face, and Jongdae almost says yes. Then, he notices Baekhyun’s arm wrapped around Kyungsoo’s waist again, and his heart plummets inexplicably.

“That’s sweet, but I really don’t want to bother you guys,” Jongdae says, trying to ignore the way both of their faces fall at the same time.

“You sure?” Baekhyun asks with a tilt of his head, “We’re having Kyungsoo’s famous kimchi spaghetti tonight.”

“‘Famous’ as in ‘Baekhyun tells people it’s famous so that I’ll put more ham in his,’” Kyungsoo mumbles, just loud enough for Baekhyun to retaliate with a playful punch to his arm.

Jongdae licks his lips unconsciously. He can smell said “kimchi spaghetti” from out in the hall, and the scent reminds him of the heaviest, cheesiest, most decadent pasta dish served at The Velvet, the one he always makes Sehun serve for him (because Jongdae knows that if he gets near the dish himself, he’ll start drooling instantaneously). The extremely limited survival skills Jongdae possesses are screaming at him to accept the offer for free dinner from a pair of probably-not-serial-killers—but, some other idiotically prideful iota of Jongdae makes him answer, “Really, I’m fine.”

They continue to just stare at Jongdae for a few seconds. Baekhyun breaks eye contact first, unlinking his arm from Kyungsoo’s waist. “Alright, if you insist,” he says with a shrug, “I’ll go get you our boiler.”

“In case you ever change your mind, though,” Kyungsoo adds as Baekhyun disappears into the kitchen, “we’ll keep an extra setting for you at the table.”

Jongdae manages an awkward laugh. “I think that’d just be a waste of space on your tabletop.”

Kyungsoo gives Jongdae a strange look, his brows furrowing and the corners of his lips quirking into something that isn’t quite a frown. “Really? I always thought our table looked a little on the empty side.”

Even if Jongdae knew how to interpret Kyungsoo’s words, he doesn’t get the chance—Baekhyun returns to the entrance before he can, portable water boiler in hand. “Here ya go, neighbor,” Baekhyun chirps, holding the boiler out with outstretched arms. Jongdae tries to take it from him, but Baekhyun pulls his arms back towards his chest, his lips curved in a deep pout. “Hold on,” he says abruptly, squinting at Jongdae’s arm, “what’re those marks on your arm?”

Jongdae glances down at the bruises on his elbows. “Oh, that’s nothing,” he answers, shaking his head dismissively, “I just tripped and scraped my arm on the sidewalk today. It’s really not as serious as it looks,” he adds quickly, noticing Baekhyun and Kyungsoo’s wide eyes.

“It doesn’t look fine,” Kyungsoo says, sounding genuinely concerned, “did you disinfect it yet? Why haven’t you put a bandage over it? We own a first aid kit if—”

“I’m fine, honestly,” Jongdae interjects, flashing the two of them a small smile of reassurance, “besides, what kind of med student would I be if I couldn’t take care of a small scrape like this?”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “What kind of med student can’t cook dinner without needing an electric water boiler?” he counters playfully, handing Jongdae the boiler. Jongdae’s face heats up, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the teasing or the brilliant smile Baekhyun gives him.

Kyungsoo clearly thinks it’s the former, because he pinches the back of Baekhyun’s neck with a frown. “Stop it,” he chastises over Baekhyun’s exaggerated yelps of pain, “we’ve messed with him enough today. The poor guy deserves a break.” He faces Jongdae with a smile similar to Baekhyun’s, which really doesn’t help with the blushing. “It was really nice to meet you, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo adds, “even if you refuse to have dinner with us.”

“Now you’re messing with him,” Baekhyun half-whispers to Kyungsoo, ducking just in time to avoid yet another pinch to the neck, “but yes, it was nice to finally talk to you,” he says to Jongdae, “hopefully this’ll be the first of many meetings?”

Jongdae smiles half-heartedly, clutching the water boiler to his chest. “Hopefully.”

 

— ❦ —

 

When Jongdae stumbles out of his apartment the next day, trying to press a stubborn cowlick straight with one hand and zipping his oversized hoodie up with the other, he nearly trips over the box sitting on his doorstep.

(Nearly meaning yes, he does trip over it—but Jongdae’s philosophy is that painful, embarrassing, and accidental slapstick comedy only counts when there’s someone there to witness it.)

“Fuck,” Jongdae groans under his breath, rubbing at his tailbone as he lifts himself off the ground. He walks towards the box, squinting and pushing his glasses up to see the perpetrator of his fall more clearly.

It’s a plain, brown box, big enough to store a substantial amount of items in, but just small enough that someone could step over it with little trouble (or: big enough for Jongdae to trip over, but just small enough that he doesn’t notice it in his bleary, pre-caffeine haze). Two cardboard flaps prevent the box’s contents from being seen, so Jongdae flips them over, fully prepared to call the police station and/or the cast of NCIS if there happens to be a dismembered head sitting inside.

What he isn’t prepared to see is a plastic-wrapped plate of spaghetti, surrounded by piles of cotton balls and unopened bandages. Two sticky notes are stuck onto the side, one in bright, neon pink and the other one in an unassuming shade of yellow. Jongdae pulls the pink one off first, reading through the messy scrawl.

_Don’t forget to disinfect and cover up your cut; it’ll get really gross if you don’t. Also, dinner is an important meal!! Heat the spaghetti for a minute or two in the microwave, then enjoy :)_

_\- Baekhyun + Kyungsoo_

Jongdae can’t help but smile as he tucks the pink piece of paper back into the box. His smile grows as he reads the neat, blocky lettering on the yellow note.

_Baekhyun’s choice of sticky note color does not reflect my own views._

_\- Kyungsoo_

Jongdae doesn’t notice the third sticky note until later that night, when he’s taking the spaghetti out for dinner and a light blue square of paper flutters onto his kitchen floor.

_We know you said you’re fine, but even the best of us need help sometimes._

_\- Baekhyun + Kyungsoo_

 

— ❦ —

 

By nature, Jongdae is not a nervous person. In fact, he considers himself to be pretty easy-going. He very rarely fumbles with words, nor does he ever have trouble coming up with things to say. He actually considers this a special skill of his, his ability to keep a conversation alive with a few relaxed jokes or casual questions. Book reports in elementary school were always a breeze, and so were any college presentations and job interviews.

By nature, Jongdae is not a nervous person—yet, the moment Kyungsoo opens the door (sans frilly, pink apron), Jongdae feels every coherent sentence slip out of his mind.

“Your boiler—I mean, I have—I have your, uh, boiler,” Jongdae stammers, “I mean—hi. Here’s your water boiler.”

Kyungsoo chuckles as he takes the boiler from Jongdae outstretched arms. He’s wearing an oversized, gray sweater, the sleeves covering his hands almost completely, and Jongdae wonders idly if the sweater is originally Baekhyun’s. “Hi yourself,” Kyungsoo greets, amused, “and thanks. I didn’t think you’d be done with this so soon. No instant ramen for dinner tonight, I’m assuming?”

Jongdae shakes his head with a small smile. “Not tonight,” he answers, finally remembering that words can, in fact, be strung together into comprehensible sentences.

Kyungsoo nods, a satisfied smile on his lips. “Good; that convenience store stuff is so bad for you.” Suddenly, his eyes go wide—at least, wider than they usually get. “Oh! I almost forgot to ask you!” he says excitedly (and adorably, Jongdae thinks absentmindedly), “How was the spaghetti?”

Jongdae licks his lips unconsciously, trying not to drool at the mere memory of last night’s dinner. “It was amazing,” he says, hoping he isn’t gushing as much as he thinks he is, “the last time I had a meal that good was when my mom still cooked for me.”

The blush that instantly creeps onto Kyungsoo’s cheeks is adorable. Then again, Jongdae seems to find everything about Kyungsoo to be adorable. It’s starting to become a bit of a problem.

“Stop it,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes like the comment annoys him (Jongdae doubts it does, because he’s still smiling as widely as before, his cheeks plumping into the most pinchable things), “you’re even worse than Baekhyun when he’s trying to get seconds.”

There’s something about that image of Baekhyun and Kyungsoo eating dinner together—spaghetti piled atop matching silverware as Baekhyun raves over the food and Kyungsoo tries to hide his blush with a napkin—that makes Jongdae smile inadvertently. Jongdae didn’t think that couples who lived together actually acted the way they did in the movies, all soft and affectionate and domestic.

Kyungsoo’s eyes trail down to Jongdae’s arms, and his smile shifts into a small frown. “Y’know, Baekhyun was the one who insisted that we include bandages with the spaghetti,” he says in an almost chiding tone, “it’d be nice to see you using them, at least.”

Jongdae glances down at his elbows. “Oh, yeah,” he says sheepishly, “I’ve been so busy lately; I guess I keep forgetting to put a bandage on.”

Kyungsoo furrows his brow. “Jongdae, it takes two seconds,” he says in teasing disapproval, “what kind of med student can’t take care of a small scrape like that?”

Despite being scolded with his own words, Jongdae chuckles. “A med student with a fifteen-page paper due in two days?”

Kyungsoo sighs. “See, this is why I didn’t study to become a doctor,” he says, shaking his head, “that, and I barely passed anatomy in high school.” He eyes the cuts on Jongdae’s elbow once more before shuddering. “Seriously, I don’t think I can sleep knowing you have those bacteria traps on your arms,” he adds, “please let me disinfect that for you, at the very least.”

Jongdae blinks. “Oh, no, I’m fine,” he says hastily, “I swear, I can take care of this myself.”

“That’s what you said two days ago,” Kyungsoo says with a hitched eyebrow.

“Really, I—”

“Jongdae,” Kyungsoo interjects in a firm voice, “you won’t even let me make you dinner. The least I can do is stick a bandage on your elbow.”

And really, Jongdae doesn’t think he can argue that point without sounding like an asshole. “Alright,” he acquiesces, “but that’s all I’m staying for, okay? I have a lot of schoolwork to do.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes light up, and his lips stretch into a wide smile. “Yeah, of course—it’ll only take a few minutes,” he says, stepping aside to let Jongdae in, “just let me put the boiler away, and we’ll get right to it.”

The moment Jongdae walks through the doorway and toes his sneakers off, he’s hit with a heavy, sweet scent, similar to cookies baking in the oven. It’s not an unpleasant smell, not at all, but it does throw Jongdae off for a second. His surprise must show on his face, because Kyungsoo lets out a little laugh. “Baekhyun’s paints leave a weird odor in the apartment,” Kyungsoo explains, “so I make him put a couple teaspoons of vanilla extract in them whenever he starts on a new piece. Sorry, I know the smell can be a little unpleasant if you’re not used to it.”

“Oh, no, I think it’s nice,” Jongdae says hurriedly, “I didn’t know Baekhyun painted, though. That’s really cool.”

Kyungsoo smiles fondly. (He has a smile specifically for Baekhyun related thoughts, Jongdae’s noticed. It’s really cute, even if it makes Jongdae’s chest hurt a little.) “Yeah, he’s working on something in the bedroom right now; uh, hence the smell of vanilla,” he says, walking away from the entrance and into the kitchen, “please feel free to make yourself at home, by the way.”

Before discovering that Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, in fact, did not murder people for a living, Jongdae had assumed that their living room would be some sort of bloody storage space for bodies. Rather than severed heads and various other dismembered body parts, though, the apartment floor is strewn with harmlessly miscellaneous objects: a pile of unopened junk mail, stacks of worn paperbacks, a pair of dusty five pound weights, even a couple dog toys.

Jongdae lets out a strangled yelp when he accidentally steps on one of the many chew toys scattered across the room, a loud squeak sounding from underneath his foot. Kyungsoo chuckles as he walks into the living room from the kitchen with antiseptic, bandages, and a cotton ball in hand, and Jongdae tries not to blush too hard. “I’m guessing you guys have a dog?” Jongdae says, recalling the barks he had heard a few nights before.

Kyungsoo chuckles again. “You’ve cracked the case,” he teases. He takes a seat at the cream-colored couch situated in the middle of the room and gestures for Jongdae to do the same. Jongdae hesitates before sitting down too. “Baekhyun’s out walking him right now,” Kyungsoo adds, “they’ll probably be home soon.”

He twists the bottle of antiseptic open and pours a generous amount onto the cotton ball. Jongdae holds his scraped up elbow out. “I don’t actually like dogs that much,” Kyungsoo says after a few seconds of silence, his lips turning down into a small frown, “I’m really more of a cat person. But, Baekhyun already had his dog by the time we started dating, and they were kind of a package deal.”

Jongdae hisses sharply when Kyungsoo starts dabbing the cotton ball steeped in antiseptic onto his cuts, pulling his arm towards his chest by instinct. Kyungsoo grabs his forearm before Jongdae can pull away completely, his grip surprisingly strong around his wrist. “It’s okay,” Kyungsoo reassures him with a soft smile, “I know it stings, but it’s okay.”

There’s something about Kyungsoo’s voice that make Jongdae’s stomach feel all weird; warm and fluttery and like he’s just had three extra-large cups of coffee with too much cream mixed in. His tensed up arm relaxes. Kyungsoo’s grip doesn’t.

“So, when did you guys start dating?” Jongdae asks abruptly, trying to take his mind off of the warm weight around his wrist.

Kyungsoo smiles (another trademark Baekhyun Smile, Jongdae notices) as he returns to dabbing the cotton ball on Jongdae’s elbow. “Sophomore year of college,” he answers, “we actually sat next to each other in German class when we were freshmen, but I refused to go out with him early on.”

Jongdae raises an eyebrow as Kyungsoo lets go of his wrist to peel open a bandage. “Really? How come?”

Kyungsoo huffs. “How come? The man was a mess.” He smooths the large bandage—a bright, pastel thing stamped with multiple iterations of Hello Kitty’s face—over the scrapes. “Once, he took a plastic-wrapped bowl of Lucky Charms out from his backpack during a lecture, poured a cup of coffee into it, and told me that was his lunch.”

Jongdae laughs. “What, are you telling me he doesn’t do this anymore?” he jokes.

“Unfortunately, I can’t say that in confidence,” Kyungsoo says with a sigh, “the man is still a mess.” He smiles into his lap as he douses the cotton ball with more antiseptic. “But, he’s my mess.”

As if on cue, the front door slams open noisily. Baekhyun stumbles into the living room with wide eyes, a wriggling corgi in his arms and an alarming amount of leaves stuck in his hair. “Soo, you will not believe what I just saw. Honest to God, there was this cloud near that Starbucks on 57th Street that was shaped just like a cowboy hat. Quick, you have to come out and see it, before—”

His words stop abruptly when he notices Jongdae. His eyes get even wider than they were before, and his lips stretch into a big grin—Jongdae wouldn’t be surprised if he sprouted a tail similar to the one swishing around behind the dog in his arms. “Neighbor!” Baekhyun greets enthusiastically, “You’re here! Did you finally realize how flawed your reasoning was before and agree to dinner with us?”

“Uh, sorry,” Jongdae answers with an apologetic smile, “I’m not staying for dinner.”

Baekhyun pouts, and it should be impossible for a grown man to look that cute. “Boo,” he says loudly, “why are you such a party pooper?” The dog in his arm barks, and Baekhyun scritches him behind the ears. “Look, even Mongryong agrees.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Put that poor dog down,” he says, “you coddle him too much.” He sets the cotton ball on top of the antiseptic bottle and gestures for Baekhyun to come closer with a hand. “Come here, your hair looks like a bird’s nest.”

Baekhyun sets Mongryong down, and the dog immediately pads away with a squeaky toy in his mouth. He walks over to the couch and bends down slightly so that he’s eye-level with Kyungsoo. “Why is it that everytime I ask you to walk the dog, you come back even messier than Mongryong does?” Kyungsoo chastises, picking bright orange leaves out from Baekhyun’s hair, “I can’t even imagine what you would need to do to get all this in your hair in the first place.”

Baekhyun’s pout deepens. “I just wanted to see the cowboy hat cloud better.”

Kyungsoo hitches an eyebrow. “So you climbed a tree in the middle of the city?”

Baekhyun waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Let’s not argue over the logistics in front of our guest.”

Kyungsoo sighs as he picks the last leaf out from Baekhyun’s hair. “Honestly, if you didn’t have me, your hair would probably become a permanent nesting area for woodland creatures.”

Baekhyun beams at Kyungsoo. “You’re right, Soo; I’m nothing without you,” he coos before kissing Kyungsoo’s forehead with a loud smack and straightening his back. He turns to Jongdae, who had been watching the exchange with a sort of awed curiosity, the same way one would watch a fascinating nature documentary. “So, if you’re not here for dinner,” Baekhyun continues, “what are you here for?”

Jongdae brandishes the Hello Kitty bandage on his elbow with a little wave. “First aid,” he answers, “Kyungsoo was kind enough to fix me up, free of charge.”

Kyungsoo furrows his brow. “Wait, you’re not paying for this?” he asks in mock surprise, “Medical supplies aren’t cheap, y’know. I mean, these are name-brand bandages.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Ah, capitalism,” he says with a sigh, “even when we’re dying in a hospital bed, we can’t escape those astronomical hidden fees.” He takes a seat beside Jongdae on the couch, then grins at him. “Hey—I’ll finish up your other arm for much cheaper than that crook over there.”

Kyungsoo chuckles as he stands up. “Be my guest,” he says, “I have to start on dinner anyways.”

Baekhyun’s grin grows as Kyungsoo disappears into the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I have to do first aid all the time at school,” he reassures him, leaning over Jongdae’s lap to grab the antiseptic and bandages, “you’re in good hands here.”

Unlike Kyungsoo, Baekhyun grabs Jongdae’s arm from the start, twisting it a little so he has better access to his bruised elbow. His grip isn’t as strong as Kyungsoo’s, but it’s still there, his fingers pressing against Jongdae’s forearm with just enough force that he can feel every rough callous lining Baekhyun’s palm.

“So, does Kyungsoo cook dinner every night?” Jongdae asks in an attempt to stop thinking about… that.

Baekhyun blots the cotton ball onto Jongdae’s elbow. This time, Jongdae flinches, but he doesn’t pull his arm away. “More or less,” he answers, “I mean, it’s the only option we have at times. We try not to eat out too much to save money, and my cooking skills are pretty much equal to Mongryong’s.”

Jongdae laughs. “Really? Because I’ve heard all about your ingenious Lucky Charms and coffee combo, and that just screams master chef to me.”

Baekhyun groans. “Oh my God, Kyungsoo told you about that?” He shakes his head as he peels open a bandage. “Please don’t judge my current character off of College Baekhyun. Really, that guy is not an accurate representation of me.”

Maybe it’s Baekhyun’s close proximity as he sticks the bandage on his elbow, or maybe it’s a just sudden surge of boldness—but for some reason, Jongdae feels the need to reply with, “I don’t know, College Baekhyun sounds kinda cute.”

If Baekhyun is as surprised by the comment as Jongdae is, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he just laughs. “That’s sweet, but he really wasn’t,” Baekhyun says, “I mean, that kid was a brat. I have no idea how he scored someone as hot as College Kyungsoo.”

As Baekhyun finishes pressing the bandage on his elbow, Jongdae feels another stupidly impulsive thought tumble out of his mouth, something along the lines of, “Well, I’m sure the two of them looked good together.”

And okay, Jongdae needs to calm the fuck down—because this was starting to sound a lot like flirting, and flirting was not something you did with a couple in a happy, healthy, monogamous relationship.

Again, Baekhyun seems unphased. “I don’t know about that, but Adult Baekhyun and Adult Kyungsoo are pretty steamy together. I mean, Friday night Scrabble? Antique shopping at local flea markets? Checkbook balancing every first Monday of the month?” He exhales sharply. “You can’t tell me that isn’t hot as fuck.”

Jongdae pretends to swoon as he fans himself with a hand. “Stop, I can feel myself getting worked up already.”

Baekhyun covers his mouth with his palm, which does little to suppress his laughter. When he pulls his hand away, he’s smiling, the same brilliant smile Jongdae remembers seeing that first night. For a moment, Jongdae forgets how to breathe. “I really wish you could stay a little longer,” Baekhyun says with a sigh, “are you sure you can’t make any time for dinner?”

Jongdae thinks about the unfinished paper saved on his laptop back home, and his mind fills with a looming sense of dread at the idea of having to write all fifteen pages tomorrow instead of tonight. At the same time, though, the prospect of having dinner with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo clouds all his other thoughts, skews that small, rational portion of his brain dramatically. Before he can stop himself, “Actually, I think I might be able to stay for dinner,” is slipping past his (seemingly defective) brain-to-mouth filter.

Baekhyun’s eyes go wide. “Really? You do?” he asks excitedly, “That’s great! Hold on, let me tell Kyungsoo.”

He leaps up from the couch and runs into the kitchen. There’s a muffled exchange between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo (“Jongdae said yes to dinner!” “Jesus Christ, Baekhyun, I’m holding a knife—give me a little warning before you charge into the kitchen like a goddamn bull in a china shop.”) before Baekhyun scurries back out with a short stack of plates and cutlery in his arms. “By the way, Kyungsoo’s making lasagna tonight,” he announces cheerily, setting the silverware atop the dining table situated at the edge of the living room.

Baekhyun starts setting the table for three, humming quietly as he does so. Jongdae decides to attribute the floaty, fluttery feeling in his gut to hunger.

 

— ❦ —

 

“Hey, dumb-dumb,” Sehun greets loudly, slapping a hand on Jongdae’s arm, “stop drooling on the counter and refill Table Five’s drinks before I tell Joohyun that you were sleeping on the job.”

Jongdae straightens his back and blinks the drowsiness out of his eyes. “I was not sleeping,” he protests, stifling a yawn that threatens to compromise his story.

“Look, I have no problem with you falling asleep in extremely unprofessional circumstances,” Sehun says, propping his arms on the counter, “but that’s kinda Jongin’s niche. We can’t have two sleep-deprived nerds napping in the empty booths when Joohyun’s on her lunch break.”

Jongdae turns to Sehun to glare at him, but ends up yawning. Sehun raises an eyebrow. “Dude, what’s up with you?” he asks, “It’s only five in the afternoon. At this rate, you’ll break Jongin’s record for the earliest anyone’s ever fallen asleep during the dinner shift.” He glances over his shoulder to look at Jongin, who happens to be nodding off near the kitchen entrance himself. “That is, if Jongin doesn’t break it first.”

Jongdae frowns. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” he says defensively, “it’s not that big a deal.”

Sehun’s hitched eyebrows threaten to breach his hairline with how high they’re raised. “Wait, you stayed up late last night?” His constant expression of disinterest slips into a smirk as he leans in closer to Jongdae. “I wonder, what could you have possibly been doing that would keep you awake all night?”

Jongdae rolls his eyes and pushes Sehun away by his forehead. “I was not having sex, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He pauses to frown. “Not that I’d tell you about it in the first place.”

Sehun pouts. “It was worth a try,” he says with a wistful sigh, propping his chin up with his hand, “what were you doing then, if you weren’t having sex for the first time since the dot-com bubble burst?”

Jongdae furrows his brow. “Okay, just how old do you think I am?” Sehun offers him a noncommittal shrug, and Jongdae sighs. “For your information, I was working on a fifteen-page paper—because I’m a responsible student who actually cares about their academic future.”

Sehun scoffs. “Yeah, right. No responsible student waits until the day before an assignment’s due to start working on it. I’d know, because I’m a horrible student.” He squints suspiciously at Jongdae. “You’re hiding something.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “You’ve been watching too many bad crime dramas with Jongin,” he says, “did you guys go on a marathon last weekend or something?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Sehun points out in a sing-song.

Jongdae sighs again, something he seems to do excessively and exclusively around Sehun. “Okay, fine. I was planning to work on my paper Saturday night, but then my neighbors invited me over for dinner.”

Sehun frowns. “Are these the same neighbors that you were convinced would kill you in your sleep?”

“Well, not in my sleep,” Jongdae mumbles, “if anything, they would catch me by surprise in the laundry room.”

Sehun gives Jongdae a strange look. “Why would you accept an invitation to dinner from a pair of murderers?”

“Because they’re not actually murderers?” Jongdae replies, “They’re just a really cute couple who always makes too much pasta for dinner.”

Suddenly, Sehun is smirking again. “A couple?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows, “Hold on, you didn’t mention that this was a love triangle type situation.”

Jongdae blinks. “It’s… not?”

Sehun rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, Jongdae; couples don’t invite people over for dinner unless the guests are: a) their parents, b) part of a couple themselves, or c) someone they’re both interested in.” He wiggles his fingers in jazz hands. “Romantically.”

Jongdae scoffs. “You’re ridiculous,” he says with a dismissive shake of his head.

“I am,” Sehun agrees easily, “but I’m also right.”

“I truly, seriously, honestly doubt that,” Jongdae deadpans—because honestly, what did Sehun, the same person who used to carry an onion around in his jacket pocket before he broke up with someone so that he could produce fake tears, know about a healthy relationship?

Sehun shrugs. “Whatever, I don’t care,” he says, backing away from the counter, “besides, you have bigger things to worry about for now.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that Joohyun just came back from her break, and you still haven’t refilled Table Five’s drinks,” Sehun replies as he jogs away, flashing Jongdae a smile from over his shoulder.

Sure enough, when Jongdae turns around, Joohyun is glaring at him with her hands on her hips. And here Jongdae was thinking that he couldn’t possibly hate Sehun any more.

 

— ❦ —

 

It’s been another one of those days, when work and classes are just too much for one stressed out student to handle. All Jongdae really wants to do at the end of these long days is bury himself underneath every blanket he owns, and sleep until his bones get so numb that he has trouble walking when he wakes up. (Of course, sleeping for ten hours straight isn’t Jongdae’s ideal reason for not being able to walk properly the next morning; but that’s a topic for another time.)

Only a few minutes after Jongdae collapses onto his bed and starts dozing off, though, his phone sounds with a loud ding! He groans as he reaches for his phone to turn the ringer off. Jongdae assumes it’s a text from Sehun asking whether he could cover his shift for him tomorrow (the answer was no, always no), or another one of those chain messages about dead girls and bad luck that Jongin was always asking him to forward to five more people on Facebook (again, the answer was no—but nicer and with considerably more emotes, so that Jongin didn’t show up to work the next day in tears). He nearly rolls off his bed when he realizes the notification is a message from Baekhyun.

 

> _7:02 PM_  
>  _From: Baekhyun_  
>  _hey neighbor!! hope im not interrupting u in the middle of anything, but soo and i have a little argument that we need u to dispute….... which is a better movie? reservoir dogs :DD or.. pulp fiction :/_

 

Jongdae smiles down at his phone screen. He had completely forgotten that he’d exchanged numbers with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo at dinner the other night. They had claimed, what with Jongdae’s busy schedule and all, that they were only going to text him when absolutely necessary—but this clearly wasn’t going to be the case.

(Not that Jongdae actually minds.)

 

> _7:03 PM_  
>  _To: Baekhyun_  
>  _hmm… why do i get the feeling that there’s a certain answer you want me to pick?_

 

Rather than a reply from Baekhyun, the next message Jongdae receives is from Kyungsoo’s number.

 

> _7:04 PM_  
>  _From: Kyungsoo_  
>  _Don’t listen to Baekhyun. Pulp Fiction is clearly the superior choice here._

 

Baekhyun’s reply arrives a few seconds later.

 

> 7:04 PM  
>  From: Baekhyun  
>  omg!!!!! kyungsoo just slapped my phone out of my hand!!!!! :o  
>  is he texting u rn?? don’t listen to him he’s a filthy pulp fiction bigot

 

Jongdae laughs aloud as he types out his reply to Baekhyun.

 

> _7:05 PM_  
>  _To: Baekhyun_  
>  _actually, i really like both movies…_  
>  _but pulp fiction will always be an all-time favorite_

 

Two dings sound successively, the first from Baekhyun and the second from Kyungsoo.

 

> _7:06 PM_  
>  _From: Baekhyun_  
>  _nooo, jongdae!! i thought we were friends!!!! ( ≧Д≦)_
> 
> _7:06 PM_  
>  _From: Kyungsoo_  
>  _I see you’re a man of taste._

 

Jongdae chuckles. He sets his phone back down on his bedside table, ready to go to back to sleep with a newfound contentment, warm and heavy in his gut, but his phone lets out another ding.

 

> 7:07 PM  
>  From: Baekhyun  
>  we’re actually having a little movie night rn, and we’re getting ready to watch pulp fiction.. since u helped settle this impasse, do u wanna come watch it with us?  
>  u don’t have to, obv. we’d just rlly enjoy ur company (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

 

And Jongdae, as exhausted as he is, doesn’t hesitate before typing out his reply.

 

> 7:08 PM  
>  To: Baekhyun  
>  i’ll be there in 10 :)

 

— ❦ —

 

“—can’t believe you’re saying that Reservoir Dogs is a better movie,” Jongdae says with a shake of head, “I mean, Pulp Fiction is a legitimate work of art.”

Baekhyun shrugs. “Okay, Pulp Fiction’s a classic; I’ll give you that,” he admits, sitting down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn on his lap, “but Reservoir Dogs is a movie where you can actually watch Tarantino developing his own artistic style. Just for that, I’d say it’s his best work, hands down.”

Jongdae takes a seat beside him with wide eyes. “I can’t believe I’m neighbors with someone who doesn’t think Pulp Fiction is the best Tarantino movie.” He turns to face Kyungsoo, who’s inserting a disc into the DVD player. “Kyungsoo, I need you to back me up here.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he just shakes his head and smiles as he walks towards the couch. “You guys are such nerds,” he says finally, no real bite to his words. He takes the seat on the couch furthest from Jongdae, so that Baekhyun is sandwiched between the two of them.

Baekhyun seems to enjoy this position very much, immediately leaning back so that his shoulders brush against Jongdae and Kyungsoo’s. “Yeah, but we’re your favorite nerds,” he coos to Kyungsoo, touching his palm to his lips to blow a kiss in his direction.

The popcorn bowl sloshes a little in Baekhyun’s lap, and Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose. “Alright nerd, give me the bowl,” he says, “if the last time we watched this movie is any indication, we’ll be sweeping popcorn off the floor fifteen minutes in.”

Baekhyun gurgles incredulously. “I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with that. Mongryong knocked the bowl out of my lap!”

Mongryong, who had been slumped at the bottom of the couch by Jongdae’s feet, lets out a little whimper at the mention of his name. “Come on, Baekhyun—blaming things on the dog?” Jongdae says in a teasing voice, bending forward to scritch an eager Mongryong behind the ears, “I thought you were better than that.”

When Jongdae turns back, Kyungsoo has one arm slung across Baekhyun’s shoulder, and he’s scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. Jongdae notes with amusement that Baekhyun’s reaction to Kyungsoo is almost indistinguishable from Mongryong’s reaction to Jongdae. “I’m not sure why you would think that,” Baekhyun says, leaning his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, “I’m really kind of a terrible person.”

Jongdae chuckles. “You aren’t that bad.”

“No, he is,” Kyungsoo confirms.

Baekhyun pouts and pulls away from Kyungsoo. “I don’t like you,” he says flatly, “I’m hanging out with Jongdae for the rest of this movie.” He leans his head on Jongdae’s shoulder, the same way he had with Kyungsoo, and Jongdae can feel his pulse tripling.

“Nearly five years together, and Pulp Fiction manages to dismantle our entire relationship in a matter of minutes,” Kyungsoo jokes, shaking his head, “I feel like I should’ve seen this coming.”

Having Kyungsoo hold onto the popcorn bowl turns out to be a smart move, because Jongdae soon discovers that Baekhyun is a very… active moviegoer. The smallest noises make him jump in his seat, while the much louder gunshot effects make him clutch onto Jongdae’s arm for dear life. During particularly bloody scenes, he even buries his face behind Jongdae’s arm. Jongdae isn’t sure why Baekhyun is choosing to do this to him when Kyungsoo, his boyfriend, is sitting right beside him, but he isn’t really complaining—not when it’s this easy to make fun of him for it.

“You’re acting like this is the first time you’ve ever seen blood,” Jongdae whispers to the grimacing Baekhyun clinging onto his shirt sleeve, “aren’t you a Tarantino fan?”

Baekhyun flinches as another gunshot sounds. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, barely even blinks as he shoves a handful of popcorn past his lips. “I’m a fan of his storytelling techniques,” he murmurs back, careful not to distract Kyungsoo from the movie, “all the blood and gore and guns, on the other hand…” Baekhyun shakes his head. “Not so much.”

Jongdae, for the life of him, can’t believe he ever thought that this same person was a serial killer. “You do know that blood and gore and guns are pretty much the core to every Tarantino movie, right?” he asks, amused.

“Lay off me, alright?” Baekhyun says defensively, “I just haven’t been desensitized to this kinda stuff; it’s not like I’m exposed to it on a regular basis.”

Jongdae raises an eyebrow. “Really? Because from what I’ve heard, elementary school art classrooms get really intense.”

Baekhyun starts snorting with laughter, his giggles cutting through the dialogue on screen. Kyungsoo flicks a piece of popcorn at his arm. “Shush, nerds,” he chides, “some of us are trying to watch a movie here.”

“You’ve seen Pulp Fiction like, fifty times already,” Baekhyun counters, “me and Jongdae are so much more interesting than John Travolta.”

“Jongdae and I,” Kyungsoo and Jongdae correct at the same time. They exchange surprised grins as Baekhyun lets out a loud groan between them.

“And you guys have the nerve to call me a nerd,” Baekhyun grumbles, taking his head off Jongdae’s shoulder and crossing his arms in front of his chest, “forget it, I’m not talking to either of you for the rest of the movie.”

Kyungsoo offers Jongdae a hitched eyebrow. “Ten bucks says he forgets and starts talking again in the next five minutes,” he says in a low voice.

Sure enough, Baekhyun starts ranting to Jongdae about Uma Thurman’s hair no less than seven minutes later. Jongdae mouths you owe me ten bucks to Kyungsoo, and all three of them slip into an easy conversation about the best Uma Thurman role (with Jongdae defending Mia, Baekhyun defending the Bride, and Kyungsoo periodically calling them nerds). As they start talking about other topics—like all the ridiculous things that happened in Baekhyun’s classroom today, or that amazing hole in the wall noodle place at the edge of Chinatown—Jongdae’s all-time favorite movie becomes mere background noise for Baekhyun’s loud laughter and Kyungsoo’s softly spoken lines; and Jongdae really doesn’t mind.

 

— ❦ —

 

“Hey,” Sehun says, poking Jongdae’s back with the blunt end of a fork, “Jongin’s mad at you, y’know.”

Jongdae furrows his brow as he piles a stack of plates onto his tray. “He is?” he asks doubtfully, “He seemed fine this morning.”

Sehun shakes his head as he helps Jongdae gather dirty cutlery. “Nah, he was trying to glare at you earlier today—which, in Jongin terms, is just the same face he makes whenever he’s constipated.”

“Now, _that_ I remember.”

Sehun pokes Jongdae’s arm with the fork again before dropping it onto the tray. “He says you didn’t even open his chain messages,” he continues, “which I also have a problem with. But, like, with my obviously more important texts instead.”

Jongdae sighs. “Shouldn’t you be taking surprisingly well-lit selfies in the bathroom right now?” He pauses as he walks towards the kitchen, the tray of dirty silverware in his arms. “Or, like, working?”

Sehun trails behind Jongdae, holding his tray to his chest. “I’m glad you recognize the importance of updating my loyal Instagram followers with snippets of my awesome life—” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “—but that’s not what we’re talking about.” He drums his fingers loudly on the plastic tray. “Why didn’t you respond to any of my texts last night?”

“Because I have better things to do with my life than talk to you about your dog all night?” Jongdae says as he walks through the double doors of the kitchen and sets the plates in the sink.

When he walks back out, Sehun is staring at him with a hitched eyebrow. “Okay,” he says skeptically, “that sounds fake. But okay.”

Jongdae huffs as he wipes his hands on the front of his apron. “For your information, I was with friends last night. I didn’t have time to reply to your texts.”

“Friends,” Sehun echoes, pronouncing the word the same way a non-English speaker would, “I… I don’t understand. You don’t have any friends outside of Jongin and I.”

“Jongin and me,” Jongdae corrects, ignoring Sehun’s rolled eyes as he pulls a wet rag out from one of his belt loops, “and I don’t really consider you two to be my friends in the first place. Jongin, maybe. Definitely not you, though.”

Sehun scoffs. “Alright, so you don’t have any friends,” he remedies, “who could you possibly hang out with?”

“I have friends, Sehun,” Jongdae says, wiping the dirty table down with his rag, “it’s not that difficult of a concept to grasp.”

“See, you say that, but I clearly know you better than you know yourself.” Sehun pulls a chair in front of Jongdae’s table and sits himself on it backwards, so that he’s hugging the back of the chair with his arms. “I mean, look at yourself—you have too many stains on your jeans to count, your shoelaces have been untied for the past two hours, and did you even bother to brush your hair before you left your apartment this morning?”

Jongdae frowns. “Wait, I thought we were talking about me not having any friends?”

Sehun points an accusatory finger in his direction. “Aha, so you admit to it!”

Jongdae rolls his eyes. Sometimes, he really hated Sehun.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Jongdae says, turning around and leaning back so that his hips dig into the edge of the table, “but I was with my neighbors last night, and I think I’ve done enough with them to be able to call them my friends.”

Sehun’s eyes go wide. “Wait, are these the serial killer slash love triangle neighbors?”

“They’re not serial killers,” Jongdae says, holding his rag up pointedly, “and this is definitely not a love triangle.”

Sehun raises an eyebrow. Honestly, Jongdae wouldn’t be surprised if he had come out of the womb like that. “Okay, but how do you know that for sure?”

“Because they’re not? Romantically attracted to me?” Jongdae says, tilting his head to the side with a furrowed brow, “You’re making way too big of a deal out of this. They just like hanging out with me because it’s convenient. I mean, we’re neighbors. We live right across the hall from each other.”

“But neighbors aren’t obligated to hang out with each other,” Sehun points out, “I mean, I fucking hate my neighbors.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re a terrible person.”

Sehun seems to consider this for a moment before shrugging. “Fair enough,” he admits, “but even if I thought my neighbors invented the Hot Pocket, I would never make them dinner.” He shrugs. “Say what you want, but they clearly like you. Maybe their feelings aren’t wholly romantic, but they’re… there.”

“First of all, the fact that the inventor of the Hot Pocket is someone who you hold in high regard explains a lot about your character. Second of all—” Jongdae pauses to shake his head. “—I still think you’re full of shit; them being nice to me does not equate to feelings of anything.”

Sehun purses his lips. “Okay, sure,” he concedes, “let’s say I agree with that, and that they have zero feelings towards you at all.” He props his chin up on the top of the chair back. “What would matter in that situation is whether you have any feelings for them, no?”

Jongdae nearly falls over on top of the table. “That’s completely irrelevant,” he says hastily, straightening his back so that he isn’t leaning on the table anymore, “even if I did have any feelings for them—which I don’t—it wouldn’t matter. They’ve been dating each other for more than four years now, and they aren’t breaking up any time soon; especially not for me.”

Sehun doesn’t reply. Instead, he smirks obnoxiously. “What?” Jongdae snaps, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Nothing,” Sehun answers, shaking his head, “except… Joohyun just came back from her lunch break.”

Sometimes, Jongdae really hated Sehun.

 

— ❦ —

 

Contrary to what Sehun seems to believe, Jongdae doesn’t have any feelings for Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. Honestly. Like he said before, Jongdae likes hanging out with them because it’s convenient. They do live across the hall, after all—and that’s really the only reason why Jongdae accepts invitations for dinner at their place more and more often, until he finds the door to Apartment 210 open for him every night at 7 PM sharp. It’s also the only reason why he keeps coming over for movie nights on Saturdays; first to watch Reservoir Dogs (as per Baekhyun’s request), then to binge both volumes of Kill Bill the week after, and so on, until they’ve cleared Baekhyun’s entire collection of Tarantino Blu-Rays. Really, Jongdae is fine with watching movies in his own apartment, but Baekhyun and Kyungsoo just have a better sound setup.

It’s convenient, the same way walking Mongryong with Baekhyun on the weekends is convenient. Jongdae needs to go out to do his shopping then anyways, and the way Baekhyun laughs wholeheartedly at everything he says is a mere bonus. Again, convenience is the only thing on Jongdae’s mind when Kyungsoo starts giving him mini cooking lessons on days he doesn’t have class, even if the gummy smile Kyungsoo gives him whenever he does something right distracts him from the lesson entirely. It’s so convenient, really, because Jongdae had been thinking that he should learn how cook—even if all his dinner nowadays is cooked by Kyungsoo, and all his lunch is just leftovers from his dinner.

It’s all so convenient, until Jongdae flies back home for a week during winter break.

He starts missing the little things at first; trivial things, like the heavy scent of vanilla that always fills their living room, or the colorful sticky notes he finds on his door every now and then reminding him to stay warm and hydrate. It doesn’t take long for these little things to snowball into moments like helping Kyungsoo with dinner, or walking Mongryong with Baekhyun. Then, Jongdae starts missing bigger things; like Kyungsoo’s smile, Baekhyun’s laugh—the way they look at each other other, and the way they look at Jongdae.

Things become a little less convenient after that.

 

— ❦ —

 

“You know, I’m going to forgive you for abandoning us for a whole week,” Baekhyun says, spitting crumbs all over his lap as he speaks. Kyungsoo gives him a disdainful look as Mongryong starts licking fallen bits of cookie off his pants leg. “Because Momma Kim makes a bombass snickerdoodle.”

Jongdae grins as taps his fingers on the large, tupperware container in his arms. “I’ll be sure to tell her you said that next time she calls.”

“Wait, don’t quote me,” Baekhyun says, eyes wide. He clears his throat and raises his half-eaten cookie in the air. “Dear Mrs. Kim; you have birthed a delightful son and even better baked goods. One day, I hope to bless my other orifices with something half as heavenly as this snickerdoodle cookie. Sincerely, Baekhyun.” He pauses to finish his cookie. “Okay, now you can quote me,” he says, his words muffled with snickerdoodle.

“Really? That’s what you want Jongdae’s mom to remember you as?” Kyungsoo asks, raising an eyebrow, “The weird neighbor who wants to stick her cookies up his ass?”

Baekhyun shrugs as he continues chewing.

Jongdae laughs. “Do you guys want any more cookies?” he asks, holding the container out slightly, “Y’know, as payment for abandoning you guys.”

Kyungsoo furrows his brow. “We don’t think you abandoned us,” he clarifies, “Baekhyun’s just being an idiot.”

Baekhyun protests with a gurgle as he swallows the cookie completely. “Pardon me, but there is no need for that sort of crude name-calling,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Exhibit A,” he says, gesturing at Baekhyun.

Jongdae shakes his head. “Oh, no, I was just kidding about that,” he says quickly, “you guys can take the whole container, for all I care. I mean, you’ve kept me from starving on convenience store instant ramen for a steady two months now—a couple of cookies is the least I can give you.”

Kyungsoo still looks hesitant, but Baekhyun breaks the uncertainty by standing up from the couch with a sharp inhale. “I mean, if you insist,” he says with a theatrical sigh, taking the container from Jongdae while sticking a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth. Jongdae bites his lip to suppress his laughter, but Kyungsoo doesn’t look as amused.

“Honestly, you’re so rude,” Kyungsoo chides, slapping Baekhyun on the thigh as he sits back down, “I can’t believe you’re soliciting cookies from a guest of our home.”

“‘Solicit’ is a little strong,” Baekhyun says, biting off a chunk of his cookie, “I think ‘enchant with my dashing good looks’ is more appropriate.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes again, but he fails to hold his smile back. “If you have this much time to stuff your face with cookies, at least go out and walk Mongryong,” he says, standing up from the couch.

Baekhyun stares up at Kyungsoo incredulously. “But it’s freezing outside!” he whines.

“And Mongryong needs to go out to pee,” Kyungsoo counters.

He’s got The Look on his face, the one where he raises one of his eyebrows all the way up and presses his lips in a tight line. Baekhyun usually shuts up within a few seconds of seeing The Look—but not today.

“Jongdae just came back from his trip, though,” Baekhyun protests.

“If it helps, we can walk Mongryong together,” Jongdae suggests, shrugging.

Kyungsoo stares at Jongdae in concern. “Are you sure? You just got off a flight, and it’s so cold out today…”

“Oh, so when Jongdae has to go outside, it’s suddenly cold,” Baekhyun mumbles, sulking on the couch.

Jongdae chuckles as Kyungsoo shoots Baekhyun The Look again. “I’ll be fine,” he assures him, “I have a pretty thick coat I can wear. Plus, I haven’t walked Mongryong in so long. It’ll be fun.”

Kyungsoo frowns skeptically, but nods anyway. “If you say so,” he concedes, “just be sure to bundle up, okay? And don’t let Baekhyun do anything stupid.”

“Me? Doing something stupid?” Baekhyun says from the couch, “Absolutely unheard of.”

Jongdae exchanges a hitched eyebrow with Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun sets the tupperware container of cookies onto the table in front of him and stands up, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. “Mongryong!” he calls out loudly, placing his hands on his hips. Mongryong, who had been laying on the couch beside Baekhyun, perks up at the sound of his name. “Time to go on a walk so that you don’t pee on the carpet and make Kyungsoo yell at you,” he says in a singsong, bending down so that he’s eye-level with the dog.

Kyungsoo snorts as Baekhyun starts cooing and fussing with Mongryong. “Are you joining us for dinner tonight?” he asks Jongdae, “You don’t have to. I know you must be tired after your trip, and—”

“Of course I am,” Jongdae blurts out, “I mean—the dinner part, that is. Of course I’m joining you guys for dinner. If it isn’t, um, inconvenient.”

Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side, amused. “Why would it be inconvenient? You’ve been having dinner with us for two months now." 

Jongdae shrugs. “Well, I imagine it must’ve been nice cooking for two people instead of three for a week,” he jokes—half jokes really, because his voice falters mid-sentence, just slightly.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Actually, I kinda missed setting the table for three,” he admits, “besides—dinner is surprisingly quiet without you there to argue with Baekhyun about Pulp Fiction.” He smiles a little, almost shyly. “I much prefer it like this.”

And, Jongdae realizes, so does he.

 

— ❦ —

 

Baekhyun cackles with laughter. “I still can’t believe that you thought I was a serial killer.”

Jongdae grimaces. He hadn’t planned on telling either Baekhyun or Kyungsoo about the events preceding the Great Across-the-Hall Neighbor Evasion of Apartment 210 ever—but seeing Baekhyun in the same bright, yellow scarf he had worn when Jongdae first met him in the hallway had brought the memory up, had made him blurt it out while Baekhyun was in the middle of picking Mongryong’s shit up with a plastic bag.

“Can you blame me? You always looked like you were covered in blood,” Jongdae says defensively.

“I also can’t believe that you, a student currently attending medical school, wasn’t able to tell the difference between blood and red paint,” Baekhyun says with a smirk, “I’m really learning a lot about you today.” 

Jongdae groans. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing Baekhyun’s arm, “Mongryong, attack him. He’s being annoying.”

Mongryong barely acknowledges his command as he starts pissing on a tree. Jongdae frowns. Traitor.

“Wait, if you thought I was a serial killer, what did you think Kyungsoo was?” Baekhyun asks, furrowing his brow, “My extremely oblivious roommate?”

“I thought he was a serial killer too,” Jongdae admits with a sigh.

Baekhyun snorts. “Wow. You must’ve been really disappointed when you actually met us.” He tugs on the leash when Mongryong starts nibbling on a flower. “Why did you think Kyungsoo was a serial killer? He’s so nice to all our neighbors.”

Jongdae furrows his brow in concentration. “I think he was glaring at me in the hallway? I really can’t imagine him doing that now, but I remember it being the scariest thing I had ever witnessed in my young life.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “Kyungsoo? Glaring at you?” He shakes his head. “This sounds like an episode of The Twilight Zone.” Suddenly, his eyes light up. He snaps his fingers. “Wait, was he wearing his glasses that day?”

Jongdae thinks about it for a while, and huh. “I don’t think he was,” he answers, “why? Does he happen to look like he just killed a family of four whenever he doesn’t have his glasses on?”

He’s joking, but Baekhyun nods with a completely straight face. “I mean, not exactly,” Baekhyun adds quickly, “he has astigmatism. If he doesn’t wear his glasses, he has to squint to see anything, and when he squints, he looks… terrifying. He was probably just trying to see who you were that day.”

Jongdae stares ahead blankly. “Oh my God,” he says flatly, “I avoided you guys for three months because of that.” 

Baekhyun snickers loudly. He throws an arm around Jongdae’s shoulders and pats his arm in consolation. “Hey, at least you’re not avoiding us now, right?”

“Well, it’s too late now,” Jongdae says, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, “I mean, I have to see you for dinner every night.”

Baekhyun laughs as he pulls his arm away. Suddenly, an especially strong wind blows past them, and Jongdae sneezes into the crook of his elbow. Baekhyun furrows his brow in concern. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jongdae replies hastily. He sneezes again, and sniffles. “I mean, I might be coming down with something, but it just feels like a cold.”

Baekhyun frowns. “A cold can be pretty bad, especially with this weather.” He stops in his steps to unravel the yellow scarf wrapped around his neck and holds it out to Jongdae. “Here, take my scarf; it’ll block out the wind, at least.”

Jongdae shakes his head quickly. “Seriously, I’m okay—”

“I wasn’t asking,” Baekhyun interrupts, hanging the scarf off Jongdae’s shoulders and wrapping it loosely around his neck, making sure it covers his chin as well. Jongdae feels his cheeks heat up instantly, though he doesn’t think it’s a result of the scarf. “There,” Baekhyun says triumphantly, resting his hands on Jongdae’s shoulders, “isn’t this so much better?”

Jongdae finds it a little difficult to answer—because he can see every detail on Baekhyun’s face so clearly now that his scarf is out of the way, from the mole dotted above his lip to his lips themselves, pale pink and chapped from the cold as he darts his tongue out instinctively, and all Jongdae can think about is how nice it would be to lean in and—

“Can I kiss you?” Baekhyun asks breathlessly.

Jongdae blinks. “W-What?” he stammers (as if he hadn’t been thinking the same question himself).

Baekhyun pulls his hands away from Jongdae’s shoulders in one quick motion, like he’s trying to get away from a burning stove. “Sorry, that was—that was probably a little too forward, wasn’t it?” he says hurriedly, shaking his head, “Just—forget I said anything.”

“Wait, no,” Jongdae says quickly, because forgetting something like this would be borderline impossible, “are you… are you serious? This isn’t a joke, or anything like that?”

“No?” Baekhyun says, the word sounding more like a question than an answer, “I mean, no,” he corrects himself, “it’s not. A joke, that is. I’ve kinda wanted to ask you that for a while now.”

Jongdae is grateful for the scarf around his neck, because it’s really the only thing hiding his embarrassingly dark blush from view. “What about Kyungsoo?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Baekhyun answers hastily, “which… sounds kinda creepy. We haven’t talked about kissing you. That would be weird.” He shakes his head, chewing on his bottom lip. “We’ve talked about… dating you. But not separately because, like, we still wanna date each other. But we’d also like to date you. Because we like you. A lot. So, yeah.” He finishes his ramble with weak jazz hands. “There’s that.”

Aside from pure, unadulterated surprise, the only thing running through Jongdae’s mind is huh, so this isn’t a love triangle (then, the thought I knew Sehun was full of shit). “This really doesn’t seem like a conversation we should be having as your dog tries to piss on a mailbox,” Jongdae says finally.

Baekhyun lets out a little laugh at that. “Yeah, probably not.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, still biting his lip. “Should we head back, then?”

Jongdae nods slowly, and another thought pops into his head. “My answer is yes, by the way,” he blurts out.

For a few seconds, Baekhyun’s lips are pressed in that cute, triangular pout he wears whenever he’s confused. Then, they spread into a wide grin. “Really?”

Jongdae just shrugs, even if he’s so nervous that he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears. This seems to be good enough for Baekhyun, who pulls the yellow scarf down from Jongdae’s chin and rests one of his palms on his cheek. He licks his own lips before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss—short and sweet and tasting of slightly of snickerdoodle—onto Jongdae’s.

It’s nothing special in terms of first kisses; both of their lips are rough and chapped from the wind, Jongdae’s teeth won’t stop chattering, and the only background noises they have to accompany them are Mongryong’s restless barks. Still, Jongdae can’t help but think: yeah. Yeah, this is so much better.

 

— ❦ —

 

“Polyamory,” Kyungsoo clarifies, staring directly at his plate as he twirls his fork around a pile of fettucine, “that’s the term Baekhyun had been thinking of earlier. It’s… um. Yeah. Polyamory.”

In an attempt to make things a little less awkward (especially since Baekhyun had announced the news to Kyungsoo by bursting into the apartment and shouting, “I just kissed Jongdae two and a half times on the walk home!”) they had decided to sort everything out over dinner—which, with the way Kyungsoo keeps blushing and talking to his chicken alfredo instead of to Jongdae, isn’t actually making things any less awkward.

“I mean, I know what it’s called,” Jongdae says, pushing a piece of chicken around on his plate, “I just don’t really understand why you two would want to date me in the first place.”

Baekhyun squints at him from across the table. “Because we like you?” he says slowly, as if the answer is just that obvious, “Why else do people date each other?”

“No, I mean, why me?” Jongdae says, frowning at his plate, “You guys have a perfectly good relationship going on with just the two of you. Why ruin it with another person?”

From the corner of his eye, Jongdae can see Kyungsoo looking up from his plate. “You think you would ruin our relationship?” he asks incredulously.

Jongdae shrugs, still playing with the piece of chicken.

“Jongdae, I once set fire to our kitchen because Kyungsoo wasn’t home to supervise me in front of an open flame,” Baekhyun deadpans, “if something could break us up, don’t you think I would’ve figured it out by now?”

Despite his uncertainty, Jongdae laughs. Almost instantaneously, a small smile appears on Kyungsoo’s lips. “It’s true,” Kyungsoo confirms, “he had to call the fire department. One of the firefighters even gave him the same speech they give to little kids about using the stove without your parents’ permission.”

Jongdae starts snorting into his palm, he’s laughing so hard. Both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo’s smiles grow. “Long story short,” Kyungsoo continues, “we like you a lot.”

“And, hopefully, you like us too?” Baekhyun adds.

Jongdae lets out a loud huff as he stabs the piece of chicken with his fork. “Don’t be stupid,” he mumbles, “of course I like you guys. It’s weird that you even have to ask.” As Baekhyun and Kyungsoo’s eyes light up, he holds his fork up to stop them from talking. “But, I don’t know about the whole dating thing yet,” he continues, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“You’ve never dated anyone before?” Baekhyun asks in a teasing voice.

Jongdae makes a face as he shoves a piece of chicken past his lips.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes before turning to Jongdae. “We’ve never done this before either,” he replies, “but Baekhyun and I have talked about this a lot. We wouldn’t bring this up unless we really, really liked you.”

“Which we do,” Baekhyun interjects, “in case that was unclear in any way.”

Instead of rolling his eyes again like Jongdae expects, Kyungsoo smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “we do.”

Jongdae can’t help smiling around his fork as well as he bites into another piece of chicken. He decides to take their word for it.

 

— ❦ —

 

Having Kyungsoo and Baekhyun as his boyfriends, Jongdae discovers, isn’t much different from having Kyungsoo and Baekhyun as his neighbors. They still live across the hall from each other; they still have dinner together every evening at 7 PM, and they still have movie nights on Saturdays. Baekhyun still walks Mongryong with Jongdae on the weekends, and Kyungsoo still gives Jongdae impromptu cooking lessons whenever they’re both free. Nothing really changes, at least not the important things, even with this new label of “boyfriends” attached to their relationship.

Simultaneously, having Kyungsoo and Baekhyun as his boyfriends is so different from having Kyungsoo and Baekhyun as his neighbors. They still live across the hall from each other, but Jongdae finds himself hanging out in their apartment more often than in his own. They still have dinner together every evening at 7 PM, but Jongdae starts coming over hours beforehand, sometimes to help Kyungsoo with trivial kitchen tasks or just to watch TV with Baekhyun. They still have movie nights on Saturdays, but they’re touchier now, arms circling around waists and foreheads pressing against shoulders. Baekhyun still walks Mongryong with Jongdae on the weekends, but Baekhyun begins stopping Jongdae for kisses in the middle of the sidewalk so often that the walks take twice as long as they used to. Kyungsoo still gives Jongdae impromptu cooking lessons whenever they’re both free, but Jongdae learns even less than he had before, too distracted by Kyungsoo’s tendency to wrap an arm around Jongdae’s waist to even hold a spoon correctly. Nothing really changes, at least not the important things—but at the same time, everything changes.

The only constant that absolutely refuses to budge, much to Jongdae’s dismay, is the fact that Kyungsoo hasn’t kissed him.

“Yeah, Kyungsoo isn’t very big on the whole… kissing scene.”

Jongdae blinks. “But, he’s dating you.”

Baekhyun chuckles as he tugs on Mongryong’s leash. “It’s not like we never kiss,” he says, “I mean, I know from experience that he’s a very good kisser.” He looks almost triumphant of this knowledge, and BB (Before Boyfriends), Jongdae would’ve just watched on with slight amusement. Now, he’s almost jealous of Baekhyun.

“Don’t worry,” Baekhyun adds, placing a hand on Jongdae’s shoulder in reassurance, “it’s really not you. Kyungsoo just prefers to take things slow, especially with milestones like a first kiss. I mean, he didn’t let me kiss him until our fourth date.”

Really, Baekhyun’s explanation makes sense—people move along in relationships at their own paces, and Jongdae has no right to be this impatient. Still, the moment he and Kyungsoo are alone, Jongdae can’t stop himself from blurting out, “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Kyungsoo glances over at Jongdae. “I… I just asked you what time it was.”

“7:43,” Jongdae answers hurriedly, “is it my breath? Because I brush and floss everyday. My dentist even keeps a picture of my teeth on the wall of his office.”

Kyungsoo furrows his brow. “Okay, I’m just going to disregard how creepy that last statement sounds, but… why are you bringing this up now?”

Jongdae pouts. “I just… we’ve been dating for two weeks now. Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Kyungsoo lets out a surprised laugh. “What, do you want to kiss me?”

“I mean… yeah?”

Kyungsoo offers him an amused smile. “Well, why didn’t you just ask?”

Jongdae stares at him blankly. “I could’ve just asked?”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “Well, yeah—we are dating, Jongdae. I’m probably not going to say no.”

Jongdae clears his throat, and fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “Then, can I—um, can I kiss you?”

Kyungsoo smiles sweetly. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he answers, placing a hand on Jongdae’s cheek and leaning in.

And, Baekhyun is right—Kyungsoo is a _very_ good kisser.

 

— ❦ —

 

Jongdae sneezes into the crook of his elbow. Kyungsoo hands him a tissue from the box on his bedside table. “Y’know, Baekhyun told me you might’ve been getting sick,” Kyungsoo says with a shake of his head, “I can’t believe that this is the one time I don’t listen to him.”

“I’m not even that sick,” Jongdae protests, even when his own voice sounds muffled and smothered through the congestion in his head.

He blows his nose into the tissue and throws it into the waste basket beside his bed. Despite the fact that the basket is a mere few inches away, he misses, and the balled-up tissue rolls off to the other side of the room. Kyungsoo stares at him pointedly. “Shut up,” Jongdae says hotly, before sneezing again

Kyungsoo hands him another tissue. “Just be glad Baekhyun isn’t home yet,” he points out, “the only thing he would be able to say for an hour is ‘I told you so’.”

Almost instantly, Jongdae hears the front door slam open loudly. Baekhyun is in the bedroom no more than two seconds later, his eyes wide with concern as they fall onto Jongdae’s figure. “Jongdae, you’re sick?” he asks in a rushed voice, “I told you your jacket was too thin. See, this is what happens when no one listens to me.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow as Baekhyun stares at Jongdae from the side of the bed with furrowed eyebrows. “Speak of the devil,” he mumbles to Jongdae.

Jongdae cracks a small smile. “I’m really fine,” he says to Baekhyun, “it’s just a cold. Besides, Kyungsoo was with me all day.”

“Not that you let me help you much anyways,” Kyungsoo interjects, “I mean, I’ve never met anyone who hates herbal tea as much as Baekhyun.”

Jongdae wrinkles his nose. “Okay, but that herbal shit is gross.”

As Baekhyun nods in vigorous agreement, Kyungsoo leans over the bed to slap him on the arm. “You’re not supposed to agree with him,” he chastises as Baekhyun yelps loudly.

“But that herbal shit is gross,” Baekhyun whines, rubbing at his arm with a pout.

“Yeah, but if you say that, then he won’t want to drink it,” Kyungsoo says in a half-whisper.

“Guys,” Jongdae interrupts, “I’m sitting right here. Like, literally in between the two of you.”

Baekhyun and Kyungsoo look down at the same time. “We know,” Baekhyun says, “how could we miss you? You sound like a dying penguin every time you try to breathe.”

Jongdae makes a face. “I do not.”

“You kinda do,” Kyungsoo admits apologetically, “although it’s a little more emu than penguin.”

“Let’s just agree on a flightless bird of some sort,” Baekhyun says, just as Jongdae asks, “How the fuck do you know what an emu sounds like?”

“But, you’re our favorite flightless bird in pain,” Baekhyun coos quickly when he notices the glare on Jongdae’s face. He presses a kiss on Jongdae’s forehead, then on his cheek, then on his—

“Stop,” Jongdae says, tilting his head away as Baekhyun tries to kiss him on the lips, “you’re going to get sick.”

Baekhyun scoffs. “Jongdae, I work in an elementary school. Whatever you’re sick with, I’ve probably gotten from my kids at least three times before.” He leans down again and tilts Jongdae’s chin up in a crooked kiss, one that Jongdae can’t help smiling into.

“Okay, this seems a little unfair,” Jongdae hears Kyungsoo say as Baekhyun begins pecking little kisses on the corner of his lips, “I took care of you all day, and he’s the one that gets a kiss?”

Jongdae laughs when Baekhyun finally pulls away. “Kyungsoo, if you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just asked,” he says teasingly.

Kyungsoo holds back a small smile. “Well, wouldn’t you like that?” Still, he leans down and presses a pair of plush lips onto Jongdae’s, and Jongdae’s pounding headache fades, just slightly.

Baekhyun lets out a small whine of protest as Kyungsoo pulls away. “No fair, I want a kiss too.”

“You just got one from Jongdae,” Kyungsoo points out, even as he leans across the bed to indulge Baekhyun.

They stay like that for a while, Jongdae buried under a thick pile of blankets as Baekhyun and Kyungsoo sit on either side of the bed. They talk about the most trivial things to keep the conversation alive, just so Jongdae doesn’t have to sit by himself in the bedroom. Eventually, the cold medicine Kyungsoo makes him take kicks in, and Jongdae dozes off—but not before he feels two pairs of lips pressed against his forehead, soft and warm and familiar in the best way possible.

 

— ❦ —

 

“Jongdae,” Sehun hisses, jogging up to Jongdae, “two fine ass men are standing by the front of the restaurant right now, and Jongin says they just asked for you. Care to explain?”

Jongdae glances over Sehun’s shoulder. “Oh. That’s just…” His eyes widen when the sight registers. “Baekhyun and Kyungsoo?”

Sure enough, both his boyfriends are standing near the entrance, talking and laughing in low voices. When they catch sight of Jongdae, Baekhyun waves to him with a wide grin, while Kyungsoo just smiles and tilts his head to the side. Jongdae turns back to Sehun with a dumbfounded look. “Why are they here?”

“That’s what I’m asking you,” Sehun counters with a hitched eyebrow, “more importantly, though: why have you been keeping these extremely attractive friends of yours a secret from me for so long?”

“They’re not—well, they’re my neighbors,” Jongdae says, stammering from the sheer shock of Baekhyun and Kyungsoo’s appearance. He runs his fingers through messy, brown locks, wishing he’d made an effort to at least brush his hair this morning.

Sehun’s eyes widen. “These are your neighbors? The ones you thought were serial killers?” He whistles lowly as he turns back to look at Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. “Y’know, they could murder me any time of the day, if they did it looking like that.”

Jongdae wrinkles his nose. “Okay, gross,” he says. As Jongdae makes his way toward the front of the restaurant, Sehun trails behind him by a few steps. “What’s… what is this? Why are you following me?”

“I’m trying to look like your friend,” Sehun whispers, “so that your hot neighbors will want to talk to me.”

Jongdae shoots him a glare and mouths go away, then faces Baekhyun and Kyungsoo with a smile. “Hey,” he says, instinctively wiping the sweat from his palms onto the front of his apron, “what’re you guys doing here?”

Baekhyun grins. “Hey yourself,” he greets, “we just wanted to go out for lunch today, and I remembered you saying that you worked at a place called The Velvet, so...” He shrugs. “Here we are.”

“Actually, I was the one who remembered,” Kyungsoo interjects, “Baekhyun didn’t even remember to put shoes on before he left the apartment.”

Baekhyun shushes him with a dismissive hand gesture. “Details, details.” He glances over Jongdae’s shoulder and at Sehun. “Oh. Hello. You are…?”

“Single,” Sehun finishes, stepping in front of Jongdae to shake Baekhyun’s hand.

“Sehun,” Jongdae interjects, frowning, “don’t you have that, uh, thing you need to do?”

“Nope,” Sehun answers with a smile, still shaking a slightly confused Baekhyun’s hand.

“Sehun,” Jongdae repeats, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Baekhyun and Kyungsoo exchange amused expressions as Sehun finally lets go of Baekhyun’s hand and backs away slowly, still maintaining eye contact. It’s a wonder how he’s able to make it to the back of the restaurant without bumping into anything.

“Sorry,” Jongdae says, sighing, “that’s just Sehun. He doesn’t really do much around here, besides make my life more difficult.”

“Aw, I thought that was my job,” Baekhyun says with a pout.

Jongdae chuckles. Already, his Sehun-induced headache is fading away. Maybe he should have Baekhyun and Kyungsoo come to The Velvet more often. “Don’t worry, you still hold the top position for that.” He runs his fingers through his hair again, hoping he doesn’t look like too much of a mess. “So, you guys want a table? I’m not too busy right now, so I can wait on you guys.”

Kyungsoo nods, then bites his bottom lip. “Actually, we were hoping we could eat with you? If you won’t get in trouble for it, that is.”

Jongdae stares at their expectant expressions, a little surprised. “Oh. Well, I go on break in twenty minutes or so. If you guys are willing to wait that long…”

“That’s perfect,” Baekhyun says, his eyes lighting up, “how long is your break?”

“Twenty minutes,” Jongdae answers, furrowing his brow, “are you guys sure you want to wait twenty minutes just to have another twenty minutes for lunch? I’m really fine with you guys eating without me.”

“But we’re not,” Kyungsoo says with a small frown.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun confirms, “we want to have lunch with our boyfriend, and that just happens to be you.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling bubbles in Jongdae’s gut. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over that—Baekhyun and Kyungsoo calling him their boyfriend, calling Baekhyun and Kyungsoo his boyfriends, just the concept of them being boyfriends in general. “In that case,” Jongdae replies, smiling unconsciously, “I think I can arrange something.”

The best part about dating Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, Jongdae thinks, is how easily they’re able to work their way into the normal fabric of his life. They’ve never had lunch at The Velvet before as a trio, but it feels like they’ve been eating there together for years. The conversation is easy, the jokes are easy, everything is just easy. When Jongdae’s break is over and he has to kiss Kyungsoo and Baekhyun goodbye, he realizes that he can’t remember much of how his life had been like before meeting the two of them. It’s a strange feeling to have—but nice. Really, really nice.

 

— ❦ —

 

Jongdae raps his knuckles against the wooden door. As he waits for a response, he smiles at the sign hanging from the doorknob, a light pink square of cardstock with “Mr. Byun” printed on it in swooping calligraphy. A few seconds later, a girl with strawberry blonde hair and large, disinterested eyes opens the door. When Jongdae doesn’t greet her right away, she raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you?” she asks sharply, resting a hand on a cocked hip.

Jongdae blinks. “Uh, yeah,” he says, “I’m looking for Baekhyun. Is he here?”

“Depends,” she answers ambiguously. She squints at him. “Are you a parent of one of the kids? Because you’re supposed to take your complaints regarding Mr. Byun to the principal’s office, not to us.”

Before Jongdae can reply, the girl is pulled back by a hand on her shoulder. “Very nicely recited, Yerim,” Baekhyun’s voice interjects, “but I can take things from here. Can you start cleaning the brushes instead?”

Yerim fixes Jongdae with a skeptical gaze, but obeys the command and walks away towards the back of the classroom. Baekhyun, adorning a messy, paint-covered smock and a large smile, takes her place at the entrance. “Jongdae,” he greets, leaning against the doorframe, “what are you doing here?”

Jongdae scoffs in mock offense. “Is that really how you greet someone who generously traveled all this way to give you your lunch?”

Baekhyun’s eyes go wide. “Wait, you have my lunch?” When he notices the paper bag in Jongdae’s hand, he gasps. “Oh my God, thank you. I thought I was going to have to ask some of my kids for lunch.”

“Mr. Byun, you’re already in enough trouble with most of the parents,” Yerim calls out from the sink, “I don’t think accusations of you taking students’ lunches would bode well with the school administration.”

“Rules were made to be broken, Yerim,” Baekhyun counters dismissively. He gestures at Jongdae to come into the room with a hand. “So, did Kyungsoo send you?”

“Yup,” Jongdae says he steps into the classroom, “he said something about how he’d rather take a bullet through the brain than come near one of your students again?” He sets the paper bag lunch onto Baekhyun’s cluttered desk, among piles of paper, art supplies, and various other knick knacks. There’s also a small, framed photo of Kyungsoo sitting beside his laptop, and Jongdae smiles down at it.

Baekhyun chuckles as he walks up to Jongdae. “Hm, yeah, that sounds like Kyungsoo.” He tucks his thumbs into the front pockets of Jongdae’s jeans, and tugs him closer. “I’m glad you came in his stead, though. I mean, I love seeing Kyungsoo run away in fear every time a kid so much as breathes in his direction, but…” He leans in and presses a kiss onto Jongdae’s lips, then pulls away with a smirk. “I like you here too.”

A loud clatter sounds from the back of the room. Baekhyun unhooks his thumbs from Jongdae’s pants pockets, as if he’s just now remembering that Yerim is in the room. “Don’t mind me,” Yerim says, scrambling to pick up the fallen paintbrushes on the floor, “I’m not even here. Please, carry on with your conversation.”

Although Baekhyun seems unfazed, Jongdae flushes. “Yerim, I think I might’ve left my water bottle in the teacher’s lounge this morning,” Baekhyun says, “can you be a dear and get it for me?”

“Well, I can,” Yerim says, continuing to run the fallen brushes under the faucet, “but I don’t really want to.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “Yerim.”

Yerim sighs and turns the faucet off. “Fine,” she groans, dropping the brushes into the sink, “I get the hint. I’ll leave.”

As soon as Yerim closes the door behind her, Baekhyun is pulling Jongdae close again by his belt loops. “Sorry about Yerim,” Baekhyun says with an apologetic sigh, “she’s a sweetheart, but unpaid college interns aren’t exactly the most diligent workers out there." 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jongdae says with a raised eyebrow. He can’t help but imagine that Yerim and Sehun would really hit it off if they were to meet.

“So, are you staying for any longer?” Baekhyun asks, “My kids would love to meet you. I totally understand if you have better things to do, but—”

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae interrupts, “I feel like you should know by now that I never have better things to do.”

Baekhyun grins. “Just making sure.”

He gives Jongdae a little tour of the classroom, introduces him to every drawing tacked onto the walls and every lopsided sculpture displayed on the tables. Jongdae tries to pay attention, really, but it’s hard to focus on a painting of a purple cat when Baekhyun’s eyes keep sparkling like that.

“Hey,” Jongdae says as Baekhyun finishes up an anecdote about one of the sculptures, “what’s that?”

Baekhyun follows Jongdae’s stare to the large canvas propped on an easel in the back of the room, a white sheet concealing its contents. “Oh,” he stammers, “um, yeah, that’s not anything important. Don’t worry about it.”

“So, you’ll tell me all about a sculpture one of your students did of a hardboiled egg, but you suddenly clam up when asked about the huge, incredibly conspicuous canvas in the back of the room?” Jongdae hitches an eyebrow. “I can’t help but feel like your logic is a little flawed.”

“It’s just a painting I’ve been working on,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head, “it’s embarrassing.”

Jongdae furrows his brows. “Baekhyun, there is literally nothing more embarrassing than the fact that I once caught you trying to eat a grape-scented eraser." 

Baekhyun shifts his weight from foot to foot, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “It’s just… it’s a portrait for…” His voice trails off into an incomprehensible mumble.

Jongdae blinks, because it’s really not like Baekhyun to get all quiet like this without there being a good reason. “I’m sorry?” he says, leaning in to hear Baekhyun better.

“I said it’s a portrait for Kyungsoo’s twenty-fifth birthday,” Baekhyun repeats in a hurried voice.

Jongdae can’t help but smirk as he watches Baekhyun’s cheeks darken with a flustered blush. “That’s actually… adorable.”

Baekhyun groans and covers his flushed face with his hands. “Ugh, I told you it was embarrassing.”

“It’s not!” Jongdae says, laughing a little as he wraps his arms around Baekhyun’s waist and pulls him closer, “It’s a really cute idea. I already know Kyungsoo’s gonna love it.”

Baekhyun peeks past the spaces between his fingers. “You think so?” he asks, a hopeful tinge to his voice.

“Really,” Jongdae reassures him, drumming his fingers on Baekhyun’s hip as if to say no bullshit. When Baekhyun pulls his hands away from his face, the corners of his lips are tilted into a small smile, and Jongdae feels something warm simmer in his chest.

“So, tell me something,” Jongdae continues, his arms still wrapped around Baekhyun’s waist, “am I a bad boyfriend for not having a gift for Kyungsoo yet because I had no idea his birthday was coming up?”

Baekhyun snorts. “Please—you could probably get him a leaf wrapped in tissue paper, and he’d hang it up on the fridge.” He rolls his eyes a little as Jongdae lets out a gurgle of protest. “And no, you’re not a bad boyfriend. You could never be a bad boyfriend. But, for future reference: Kyungsoo’s birthday is on the 12th.”

Jongdae’s stomach flips at that—because today is the 3rd, and if his arithmetic skills aren’t completely off from disuse, that only gives him nine days to find the perfect gift for Kyungsoo. Baekhyun must notice the sudden anxiety written on his face, because he grins and pinches Jongdae’s cheek. “Hey, don’t stress about getting him something amazing,” Baekhyun says, “he’ll just be glad to celebrate his birthday with you. Plus, if you get him a better gift than me, I’ll probably start crying.”

Jongdae chuckles. “And that would just be the end of the world, wouldn’t it?” he teases.

Baekhyun pouts. “Hey, watch it,” he warns him, “I could burst into tears right now if I wanted.” He raises one balled fist and twists it underneath his eye, mimicking a crying motion. “Wah.”

Jongdae lets out another laugh. “You’re such a baby.” Baekhyun’s pout just grows, so Jongdae leans in and presses a kiss onto it. He feels Baekhyun’s lips shift underneath his, feels them curling into a familiar smile. When he tries to pull away, Baekhyun pulls him back in by his shirt collar and peppers his lips with messy kisses. Jongdae’s pulse quickens, and the something warm in his chest bubbles underneath his ribcage.

They probably would’ve stayed like that for hours, if it weren’t for the telltale sounds of a door opening and a plastic water bottle clattering onto the floor. “Don’t mind me,” Yerim announces in an even voice, picking the water bottle back up and walking towards the sink, “I’m not even here.”

Like before, Jongdae flushes—but this time, he doesn’t pull away.

 

— ❦ —

 

Kyungsoo frowns as Mongryong wriggles onto his lap. “You sure you want to hang out with me all day?” he asks, running a hand down Mongryong’s back, “I really don’t do anything interesting when Baekhyun’s at work.”

Jongdae shrugs. Truthfully, he’s still trying to find a gift for Kyungsoo’s birthday. With only six days left, he figures that the best thing he can do now is perform a little reconnaissance, and get at least a general idea of what Kyungsoo would want as a present.

“Well, I like hanging out with you anyways,” Jongdae says. He tries to pet Mongryong from the other end of the couch, but the dog scampers away before he can. He tries not to pout as Mongryong jumps off the couch completely and disappears into the bedroom. “Besides, I’ve always wondered what you do at home on the weekdays.”

“Well, sometimes I stop petty thieves and small bank heists under the superhero alias ‘D.O’,” Kyungsoo replies in a flat voice, “but most of the time, I just work.”

Jongdae chuckles as he pulls his feet up onto the couch in a cross-legged position. “Huh. I never would’ve guessed that D.O had another day job.” He suddenly realizes that he has only the faintest hint about what Kyungsoo’s occupation is—Jongdae knows that he works from home, but that’s pretty much it—and immediately feels guilty. Not only does he not know his birthday, but he doesn’t even know what he does for a living? Jongdae is probably the worst boyfriend ever.

“So, tell me,” Jongdae continues, “what does the amazing D.O do all day when he’s not busy fighting crime?”

At this question, Kyungsoo’s cheeks plump into a small smile. “I do freelance web design,” he answers slowly, clear excitement simmering underneath his even voice, “meaning I just write code all day for mostly small businesses. Boring stuff.”

Jongdae’s eyes go wide. “Hey, I took a programming class back in high school!”

“Really?” Kyungsoo asks, sounding even more excited now, “What’d you learn? Just basic HTML and CSS? Or did you learn Java?”

“Um,” Jongdae stammers, “yes?” He shakes his head. “I actually have no idea. It was only a semester-long class, and everyone just played LoL on the school computers as the teacher slept at his desk.” Kyungsoo face seems to fall at this, so Jongdae adds, “But I still think web design is super interesting! I mean, the most I’ve ever done in terms of coding is change a word’s color from black to orange, but I’d love to see more.”

Kyungsoo smiles. “Really? Because I’m actually working on a website for an online clothing store right now, and I could show you what I’ve done so far.” He pulls his laptop onto his thighs and pulls up an unfinished webpage, then starts explaining the code in an enthusiastic voice.

It’s the most excited Jongdae’s ever seen Kyungsoo, and it’s absolutely adorable. Whenever Kyungsoo asks him a question, Jongdae can only answer with an ambiguous “hm,” because strings of code are really the last thing Jongdae is able to focus on when Kyungsoo keeps smiling like that.

“Are you even listening to me?” Kyungsoo asks with a small frown.

Jongdae blinks. “What?” he sputters incredulously, “Of course I am! How could you even ask that?”

“Because when I asked you whether you liked the brown or maroon lettering better, you made the same sound Mongryong makes when he wants to go outside.” Kyungsoo pauses. “Which, now that I think about it, is also the same sound Baekhyun makes.”

Jongdae flushes. “Sorry, sorry. I really am trying to listen, I swear. It’s just…” He smiles a little. “I don’t know. You get such a pretty smile on your face whenever you get passionate about something.”

Now, Kyungsoo blushes, his cheeks turning into a light pink. “Is that why you never paid attention during our cooking lessons?” he asks, trying to scoff Jongdae’s compliment off, “And here I was thinking that you were just terrible at baking.”

Jongdae grins. “Nah, I still can’t crack an egg to save my life,” he admits, “but it’s pretty difficult to focus on cooking when I’m thinking about how I could be kissing you instead.”

Kyungsoo scoffs again, but his cheeks are even redder than before. “Honestly, I can’t take you seriously anymore,” he says, “you’re always talking about how much you want to kiss me, but you never actually do it.”

Jongdae raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that a challenge I detect?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Kyungsoo says with a sigh of mock disinterest, “it’s only a challenge if you have a chance of beating it.”

Jongdae lets out a surprised laugh. “I wasn’t going to resort to this, but you’ve pushed me too far.” He leans in and captures Kyungsoo’s lips in a kiss, not missing the way his fingers tighten on the sides of his laptop.

“That was…” Kyungsoo starts as he pulls away from the kiss, licking his bottom lip, “...not bad. But I was expecting a little more,” he challenges in a lilting voice.

Jongdae huffs. He moves Kyungsoo’s laptop aside, then tilts his chin up into another kiss, one with more tongue and teeth than the previous. “Better,” Kyungsoo mumbles against Jongdae’s lips, smiling.

(They stay like that for a while, until Baekhyun comes home—then, they have to make room for him in the middle and shower him with kisses until he stops whining.)

 

— ❦ —

 

“It really doesn’t look that bad.”

Jongdae groans and buries his face in his hands. “Are you kidding me?” he says, his voice muffled by his large oven mittens, “It looks like something a seagull vomited out, then ate again, then vomited out one more time.”

Baekhyun stifles laughter as he places a hand on the small of Jongdae’s back. “You’re being too hard on yourself,” he says, “it looks fine. Besides, the appearance doesn’t matter, right? It just has to taste good.”

Jongdae pouts. “But, this probably doesn’t taste good,” he says, staring down at the burnt pot of pasta sitting on the stove, “I don’t even think it’s edible.”

Baekhyun fails in suppressing his laughter at this. He covers up his short giggle with a quick cough. “Look, it’ll be fine,” Baekhyun says in a soft voice, “if this turns out to be… um, less than gourmet, we’ll order Chinese food instead. I’m sure Kyungsoo won’t mind.”

When Jongdae’s pout doesn’t budge, Baekhyun continues rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Seriously, it’ll be okay; we can fix this. Kyungsoo won’t be back for a while. Yerim said she was going to distract him as best she could, and she’s pretty good when it comes to inconveniencing others. Anyways, I’m sure it doesn’t taste as bad as it looks.” Baekhyun pulls a wooden spoon out from a nearby drawer and scoops a little bit of pasta onto it, then takes a cautious bite. All his features contort almost immediately, his lips twisting into a frown and his eyes screwing up, before he attempts a smile. “It’s really not that bad,” Baekhyun rasps, very obviously trying to suppress a cough.

“Wow. An Oscar-worthy performance,” Jongdae deadpans, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Baekhyun winces and drops the spoon into the pot. “I’ll call up the Chinese place.”

Before he can even grab his phone, the front door clicks open. The two of them exchange wide eyes. “I thought Yerim was distracting him at school,” Jongdae hisses.

“She was,” Baekhyun whispers back, “but she’s also horribly unreliable and very easily distracted.”

“Dude, why do you let her do anything for you?”

“Baekhyun? Jongdae?” Kyungsoo’s voice calls out from the doorway. “Is that you guys whispering over there?” Before they can answer, Kyungsoo is standing in front of the kitchen, staring dumbfoundedly at the mess on the stove. “Um…?”

“Happy birthday!” Baekhyun blurts out, letting out a loud whoop as he gestures at Kyungsoo with jazz hands. Jongdae whoops too, albeit belatedly.

Kyungsoo furrows his brow as he walks over to the stove. “Is that… did you guys make me ravioli? For my birthday?”

“Actually, it’s tortellini,” Jongdae corrects him, “because I remember you saying that was your favorite kind of pasta. But I kind of, uh, burnt it past recognition.”

“So I see,” Kyungsoo says in amusement. He picks the spoon up and scoops some of the pasta onto it. “Well, it doesn’t look that bad. How does it ta—”

“No!” Baekhyun says fervently, slapping the spoon out of Kyungsoo’s hand. It clatters back into the pot with a loud clang. “It’s, uh, probably best if you don’t try it.”

Kyungsoo blinks. “Oh. Is it that bad?”

“We were just about to order Chinese food,” Baekhyun affirms with a nod.

“Well, you don’t have to do that,” Kyungsoo says, “I still have time to cook something small for dinner.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “Don’t do that,” he says quickly, “it’s your birthday. The whole point of this… endeavor into the culinary arts was that we didn’t want you to do work on your birthday.”

A pretty, heart-shaped smile spreads across Kyungsoo’s lips. “That’s… that’s really sweet of you two.” He shakes his head. “But, you guys really don’t have to do all this. I don’t like—”

“You don’t like making a huge deal out of your birthday, I know,” Baekhyun finishes for him, “but it’s special this year. I mean, it’s your first birthday with Jongdae. We made a whole list of super important stuff to do, just for this occasion.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head again, his smile growing. “You guys,” he says, “are such nerds.”

Jongdae grins. “We’re your favorite nerds,” he says.

Kyungsoo snorts. “That’s questionable.” He ignores Baekhyun’s gasp of mock offense. “So, what exactly is on this list of super important birthday activities?”

“Well, first was a homecooked meal of your favorite food,” Jongdae says. He purses his lips. “But, that clearly didn’t work out.”

“If I remember correctly, next is cake,” Baekhyun continues, “then gift-opening.”

“Then a surprise at the end,” Jongdae finishes, waggling his eyebrows.

Kyungsoo, at the very least, looks amused. “Intriguing.”

“You’ll just have to stick around to find out what the surprise is,” Baekhyun singsongs.

“But, for now,” Jongdae interjects, “cake.”

The cake is a diabetes-inducing double chocolate cheesecake, one Jongdae had gotten for free at The Velvet by cashing in a favor from the head chef. Baekhyun had bought a pack of multicolored candles from the convenience store and stuck twenty five of them on top, which turned out to be a very inconvenient decision when Kyungsoo was forced to blow them all out. By the time all three of them put the candles out, a pile of cooling wax had formed on top of the cake. Baekhyun apologizes profusely for putting all twenty five of the candles on the cake, but Kyungsoo simply laughs it off and scrapes the wax off with a butter knife.

After stuffing themselves with cake (minus the top layer of frosting), Jongdae pulls his gift out. “It’s a new apron,” he explains obviously once Kyungsoo unwraps the present, “because I noticed that your old one was kind of frayed at the edges. Plus, the writing on it reminded me of you.”

Truthfully, Jongdae doesn’t understand the joke on the apron at all (what the hell does “#0 Programmer” even mean?), but Kyungsoo chuckles at it, which is good enough for him. “It’s cute,” he says, sounding genuinely pleased by the gimmicky gift, “thank you, Jongdae.”

Baekhyun practically jumps out of his seat when asked to reveal his present. He disappears into the bedroom for a bit, then comes back out with Mongryong at his heels and a large canvas in his hands. Kyungsoo cranes his neck to try and see the painting, and Jongdae can’t help himself from doing the same. “Just a disclaimer,” Baekhyun says, suddenly sounding nervous, “I haven’t had a ton of time to work on this. Plus, it’s undergone a lot of revisions, and I had a lot of trouble with—”

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo interrupts, “calm down. I’m sure your present is amazing, whatever it is.”

Baekhyun calms down visibly at this, a small smile on his lips. “I was originally going to paint a portrait of just you,” he starts slowly, turning the painting around, “but I assumed you wouldn’t really want to hang that up in the living room. So, I painted us.”

The portrait, filled with the same sharp lines and bold colors Jongdae had come to associate with Baekhyun, is of three hands intertwined together, fingers interlocked tightly. Something flutters in his gut at the sight—because seeing their relationship physically like this, as paint on a canvas, makes everything feel so much more real. Surprisingly, it’s not a bad realization.

“It’s not the Mona Lisa or anything,” Baekhyun adds, almost shyly, “but I thought it’d be a nice present.”

When Jongdae looks over at Kyungsoo, he’s smiling widely. “I love it,” he says in a soft genuine voice, “we can hang it up right away, if you want.”

Baekhyun mirrors Kyungsoo’s smile. “Really? You’d be cool with that?”

“Of course,” Kyungsoo answers immediately. He turns to Jongdae. “Isn’t it such a nice painting?”

Jongdae can’t help but smile as he answers, “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Baekhyun grins as he leans the painting against a nearby wall. “We can’t hang it up yet,” he says, seating himself on the couch between Kyungsoo and Jongdae, “we still have the surprise.”

Kyungsoo hitches an eyebrow in amusement. “Right, I almost forgot about that. What’s the surprise?”

Jongdae feels his pulse quicken, because it’s obvious what Kyungsoo thinks the “surprise” is—another cake, one extra present, something trivial like that. So, when Baekhyun licks his lips and pulls Jongdae forward for a deep kiss, Jongdae can understand the unexpected yelp Kyungsoo lets out.

As Baekhyun sucks greedily on his bottom lip, Jongdae groans. He can hear a sharp intake of breath from Kyungsoo’s direction, which only gives him initiative to run a hand up Baekhyun’s chest, brushing his thumb over his nipple lightly through his shirt. Baekhyun whimpers a little before pulling away, his lips red and slick with spit as short breaths pass through them.

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo says breathily, the low tone of his voice going making Jongdae’s knees go weak.

Baekhyun smirks at Kyungsoo. “And that’s not even the surprise.”

 

— ❦ —

 

The real surprise, as Baekhyun and Jongdae had planned out earlier that day, involves Kyungsoo and Baekhyun’s bedroom—or, more specifically, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun’s bed, and the three of them spread on top of it.

“Are you sure you’re—ah—that you’re okay with this?” Kyungsoo pants as Jongdae presses open-mouthed kisses onto his neck and Baekhyun starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“For sure,” Jongdae murmurs against Kyungsoo’s neck, “Baekhyun and I talked about this already. We figured it’d would be a pretty good birthday present.”

Kyungsoo tilts his head back as Baekhyun starts running his tongue, wide and flat, against one of his nipples. “It is a pretty good present,” he admits, “but I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongdae says, pulling away from his neck, “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I want this as much as you do.”

“Yeah, so shut up and enjoy your present,” Baekhyun interjects against Kyungsoo’s chest.

Kyungsoo lets out a laugh. “If you insist,” he acquiesces, letting Jongdae pull him close for a kiss.

“So,” Baekhyun says, “what do you want first?”

Kyungsoo’s eyes go wide, and it would be adorable if he didn’t look like the very picture of sin, with kiss-swollen lips and faint, red marks already surfacing on his skin. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Jongdae answers, rolling his eyes playfully, “it’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Kyungsoo swallows thickly, and seems to consider all the possibilities for a moment. “Can… can one of you suck me off?” he asks in a flustered voice, sounding a little overwhelmed but the entire situation.

“Which one?” Baekhyun asks, smirking a little.

Kyungsoo flushes. “I-It doesn’t really matter,” he stammers, “um… Jongdae?”

Even if Jongdae’s heart is currently working triple-time trying to transport enough oxygen to his brain, he smiles sweetly as he unzips Kyungsoo’s jeans. “With pleasure,” he says, helping Kyungsoo out of his pants and boxers.

Kyungsoo leans back on the headboard, his back propped up by a few pillows. He’s still blushing when Jongdae climbs between his legs and starts giving the head of his half-hard cock kittenish licks, lapping up the pre-cum with short flicks of his tongue. When Jongdae runs his tongue up his entire cock, from the base to the tip, Kyungsoo stifles a groan, just as Baekhyun lets out a sharp breath. “Fuck, that’s hot,” Baekhyun mumbles from beside Jongdae. He rests his hand on the nape of Jongdae’s neck, right as Jongdae wraps his lips around the head of Kyungsoo’s cock, and tugs lightly at the short, brown strands. Jongdae whimpers a little when Baekhyun’s hand on his neck starts pushing him down gently on Kyungsoo’s cock.

Jongdae, in all honesty, hasn’t had sex in over six months. So, he’s a little rusty when it comes to the realm of blowjobs, and he has to pull off with a cough the moment Kyungsoo’s cock hits the back of his throat.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says softly, swiping saliva off the corner of Jongdae’s lips with his thumb, “you okay?”

As Jongdae nods quickly, Baekhyun gives him a concerned look. “Was that because of me?” he asks, sounding appalled, “That didn’t hurt, did it?”

Jongdae shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he says in a rushed voice, “That was my bad. I just… I haven’t done this in a while. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Kyungsoo furrows his brow. “Y’know, we can stop if—”

“I’m fine,” Jongdae reassures him, “besides, we can’t stop now. It’s still a certain someone’s birthday.”

Kyungsoo looks a little apprehensive, but he doesn’t do anything other than throw his head back when Jongdae wraps his lips around his cock again. Baekhyun places his hand back on Jongdae’s neck, but less forcefully than before, and more to rub soothing circles onto the skin than to push him down. Kyungsoo’s cock hits the back of his throat again, and he remembers to relax and breathe through his nose this time.

“Holy shit, Jongdae,” Baekhyun says once Jongdae swallows the entire length of Kyungsoo’s cock. If it weren’t for the dick in Jongdae’s mouth, he probably would’ve grinned.

He only starts bobbing up and down for a few seconds, before Kyungsoo is telling him to stop with a few stuttered breaths. “I want—I want to fuck you,” he says. His cheeks are still flushed, but his eyes are hooded and heavy. “Is that okay?”

“Fuck yes,” Jongdae answers.

Baekhyun stifles a laugh, then hops off the bed. “Hold on, I’ll get lube,” he says, rummaging through a nearby drawer. He pulls a bright red container out and grins, walking back to the bed. “Found it.”

Jongdae makes a face. “Cherry flavored?”

Baekhyun mimics his expression as he unscrews the bottle. “What’s wrong with cherry flavored?”

Jongdae shrugs. “I just don’t like cherries.”

“Well, I’m sorry, I’ll try to cater to your lube preferences better next time,” Baekhyun deadpans, “but for now, please take your pants off.”

Jongdae flushes as he slowly unzips his jeans and pulls them off, along with his underwear. “Y’know, that kind of snark is why you can’t find a nice girl to settle down with,” he counters, lying down on the bed so that he’s facing the ceiling. Suddenly, there’s a cold, slick finger pressed at his entrance, and Jongdae tries not to yelp. Again, it’s been a while since he last had sex, and even more of a while since he last bottomed—the sensation isn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but it’s a little unfamiliar, and it’s taking a little longer than usual for Jongdae to get used to.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Baekhyun murmurs as he presses one finger in.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s the reason why he can’t find a nice girl to settle down with,” Kyungsoo says in an amused voice.

Jongdae can’t find it in himself to respond when Baekhyun pumps a second finger in with the first one. He groans as he closes his eyes, letting Baekhyun work wonders with those long, long fingers of his. When he opens his eyes again, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are exchanging a heated kiss over his body. Jongdae’s always found it fascinating to watch Kyungsoo and Baekhyun kiss, especially since they know each other’s habits so well, their lips slotting together perfectly and their fingers interlacing almost automatically. He would probably comment on this observation, if Baekhyun didn’t currently have three fingers inside of him.

“You ready?” Baekhyun asks Jongdae as he pulls away from Kyungsoo.

“Yes,” Jongdae says, probably more enthusiastically than expected.

Kyungsoo gives him an amused look as he rolls a condom over his cock. “How do you want me?”

“Your choice,” Jongdae pants, because Baekhyun is still pumping three fingers inside of him, “I don’t care, just—just hurry up.”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “Impatient.” Baekhyun pulls his fingers out, and Jongdae almost whines at the loss—until Kyungsoo’s cock replaces them.

“Fuck,” Jongdae gasps out as Kyungsoo starts sinking in slowly.

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo echoes, breathing heavily, “Fuck, Jongdae, you’re so fucking tight.”

He’s pushing in so slowly, and Jongdae almost tells him to hurry up again. Then, he bottoms out, hitting his prostate just right, and Jongdae has to bite down at his knuckles to keep from being too loud. He doesn’t think it could get better than that, until Kyungsoo starts thrusting, and biting down on his knuckles doesn’t do much more than muffle his scream.

He feels a cool palm on his forehead, brushing sweat-damp bangs out of his face. “You’re doing so well,” Baekhyun says in a low voice, “fuck, you look so nice like this. I wish you could see yourself right now.”

Despite the sheen of sweat on Jongdae’s forehead, Baekhyun presses a kiss there, keeps murmuring little praises in Jongdae’s ear. It doesn’t take long for Kyungsoo’s thrusts to get erratic, and for Jongdae to feel a familiar burn thrumming in his gut. Kyungsoo comes first, breathing hard, then Jongdae a few seconds later, white spots filling his vision as he continues rutting against Kyungsoo.

As soon as Kyungsoo ties the condom off and throws it into a nearby waste basket, he collapses onto bed back-first next to Jongdae. “That was… wow,” he says in a breathy voice.

“Yeah,” Jongdae agrees, suddenly feeling exhausted, “wow.”

Baekhyun hovers over the two of them with a trademark pout on his lips. “You guys don’t think you’re done yet, do you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s more?” Kyungsoo asks, sounding as weary as Jongdae, “Can’t we just watch Friends reruns in bed?”

Baekhyun’s pout grows. “Yah, Kyungsoo, you’re so inconsiderate,” he chastises, “I get that it’s your birthday and all, but I haven’t gotten off yet.” When Kyungsoo lets out a noncommittal noise, Baekhyun adds, “Hey, I’ll do all the work.”

Jongdae, as fucked out as he is, sits up at that, a little interested in what Baekhyun’s idea of doing all the work would be. Kyungsoo seems interested too, propping himself up on his elbows so he can watch Baekhyun from the opposite end of the bed.

As Baekhyun pulls his pants off slowly, he covers his fingers in lube again. Slowly, almost teasingly, he pushes a finger past his entrance, his eyelashes fluttering closed as his head falls back. Jongdae bites his bottom lip when Baekhyun slips another finger in, a loud moan leaving his lips as he starts scissoring himself. He can feel himself getting hard again, which is a little ridiculous. Still, he indulges himself, wrapping his hand around his dick as he watches Baekhyun fuck himself on his own fingers.

Some time later, Baekhyun pulls his fingers out. “Put this on for me?” he asks breathily, throwing a condom from the edge of the bed in Kyungsoo’s direction. Kyungsoo practically scrambles for the condom, and it would be kind of hilarious if Jongdae wasn’t about to watch his boyfriends have sex with each other for the first time.

“Y’know, I get the feeling that Jongdae’s more excited about this than we are,” Baekhyun stage whispers to Kyungsoo before climbing into his lap and giving him a long, languid kiss.

Jongdae huffs. “Shut up,” he says, even as he thrusts up into his fist at the sight of Baekhyun sinks down on Kyungsoo’s dick.

If watching Baekhyun and Kyungsoo kiss is a fascinating experience, watching them fuck is a life-changing one. The moment Kyungsoo bottoms out, Baekhyun sitting flush on his lap with a loud moan, they seem to know exactly what to do from there. No movement is badly timed, no thrust too gentle or too rough. It reminds Jongdae a little of watching a well-orchestrated ballet—except with, well, a dick and an ass. So, basically, a well-orchestrated ballet, but a hundred times better.

Jongdae thinks he could probably watch them fuck forever, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s basically rutting into his fist the entire time. He comes with a slightly stuttered moan, with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo coming a few seconds later. “Fuck,” Kyungsoo says after Baekhyun presses a kiss onto his lips and gets off his lap, “if it’s going to be like this all the time, I think my dick might die.”

Baekhyun snorts as he helps Kyungsoo tie up the condom and throw it away. “I can’t believe you’re the youngest one here,” he says, grabbing a tissue and helping Jongdae clean up his mess, “you act like you’re eighty years old.”

“Okay, it is perfectly normal to be tired after two rounds of sex,” Kyungsoo says defensively, “back me up here, Jongdae.”

And Jongdae, he’s not sure whether it’s just the afterglow or the fact that he finally feels content whenever Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are beside him, but he suddenly feels so fond. “Y’know, I really like you guys,” he says in a drowsy voice.

Kyungsoo and Baekhyun exchange a surprised look. “We like you a lot, too,” Baekhyun replies with a grin, lying down on the other side of Jongdae so that he’s sandwiched between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo agrees, “and I’m not just saying that because you let me fuck you.”

Jongdae snorts.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says suddenly, “do you want to be the little spoon or the big spoon?”

“I want to change the sheets so that we’re not sleeping in our own come,” Kyungsoo mumbles in response.

“So, big spoon?” Baekhyun says.

Kyungsoo hesitates before sighing. “Fine, I’ll change them in the morning,” he concedes, pressing his body against Jongdae’s back as Jongdae does the same to Baekhyun.

Jongdae feels that same fondness again, and he knows it’s not because of the afterglow this time. Maybe it’s just because he’s falling asleep, his tired mind warping every thought. Maybe it’s because of the warmth of Kyungsoo and Baekhyun’s bodies, pressed flush against his own. Or maybe it’s because Jongdae finally feels at home somewhere, and that somewhere happens to be right between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.

 

— ❦ —

 

Jongdae wakes up the next morning to a hand gripping his arm like a vice, shaking it until he finally blinks awake. “Guys, guys, guys,” Baekhyun rambles excitedly, “look out the window! Look, guys, look!”

Kyungsoo groans and throws a pillow in Baekhyun’s general direction. “Baekhyun, it’s five in the morning,” he says groggily, “I know you only need, like, two hours of sleep to survive, but not all of us are you.”

“But, guys, it’s snowing out!” Baekhyun whines, tugging on Jongdae’s shirt sleeve.

Jongdae rolls over on his side so that he’s facing Kyungsoo. “Your boyfriend’s awake,” he mumbles, “control him, please.”

“Oh, no,” Kyungsoo says with a scoff, “he’s your boyfriend at five in the morning—you control him.”

Before Jongdae can complain about the logic behind that sentiment, Baekhyun is wriggling underneath the blankets and between them. “Dude, why are you so cold?” Jongdae whines, scooching away from Baekhyun’s body.

“Because I’m just so much cooler than you two,” Baekhyun replies with a self-appreciative snort, “also, I went out to play in the snow.”

“You’re a twenty-five year old man,” Kyungsoo points out.

“And so are you, ya old geezer,” Baekhyun says, beaming at Kyungsoo, “now, let me be the little spoon. I’m cold.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Jongdae deadpans.

Still, both he and Kyungsoo wrap an arm around Baekhyun’s curled up figure, indulging him for the first and probably not the last time that day. Baekhyun’s freezing, of course he is, but it’s still nice, the way he squirms up against Kyungsoo and Jongdae’s chests and lets out little contented noises. And it’s not perfect, because nothing in their relationship is—but perfection is a small price to pay when you’re looking for forever.

**Author's Note:**

> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/mochiiks) | my [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/mochiiks)


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